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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Gertrude. — "Very  likely  General  Beauregard  has  more  nerve 
than  you  have." 

Painted  by  John  H.  Cassel 


Shenandoah 

Love  and  War   in   the  Valley  of  Virginia 
1861-5 


Based  upon  the  Famous  Play  by 
Bronson  Howard 


By 

Henry  Tyrrell 

Author  of  "Lee  of  Virginia,"  etc. 


Illustrated  by  Harry  A.  Ogden,  John  H.  Cassel 
and  Others 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York     ZTbe  Imicfeerbocfcer  press         London 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1919 

BY 

HENRY  TYRRELL 


TTbc  •fenfcfccrbocfeer  preea.  «ew 


to 


3 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I — HAUGHTY  OLD  CHARLESTON      .  .        i 

II — APRIL  WEATHER       .         .         .  .16 

III — AFTER  THE  BALL     .         .         .  .28 

IV — SUMTER 44 

V — PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS    .         .  .57 

VI — THE  VIRGINIANS       ....      68 

VII — WAR  is — WAR          .         .         .  .      91 

VIII — IN  THE  VALLEY        .      ' . ,  '*       .  .     102 

IX — SHENANDOAH'S  DAUGHTER         .  .     120 

X — GRAPEVINE  TELEGRAPH     .         .  .136 

XI — LIBBY  PRISON  .         .         .         .  .154 

XII — LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS       .         .  .187 

XIII — CROSSING  THE  RIVER      , .         .  .     203 

XIV — SHERIDAN         .         .         .         .  223 

XV — WHIRLING  THROUGH  WINCHESTER  .     236 

XVI — THE  STRANGE  FORTUNES  OF  WAR  .     250 


550143 


iv  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII — SIGNALS  FROM  THREE-TOP  MOUNTAIN    264 

XVIII—" TELL  How  I  DIED"       .         .         .288 

XIX— "IT'S  ONLY  A  BATTLE!"          .         .     302 

XX — AT  THE  ELEVENTH  HOUR          .         .311 

XXI — THE  VALLEY  OF  DESOLATION  .         .327 

XXII — THE  SURRENDER      .        .      . ...        .     344 

XXIII— "WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE"      .     366 
XXIV — LOVE  RULES     .....     374 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

GERTRUDE — "VERY  LIKELY  GENERAL  BEAURE- 
GARD  HAS  MORE  NERVE  THAN  YOU  HAVE"  . 

Frontispiece  in  color 
Painted  by  John  H.  Cassel 

THE  FIRST  BATTLE  OF  BULL  RUN — "THE  RE 
PULSE  BECAME  A  ROUT"       .  .  .20 
Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

SERGEANT  BARKET — "THE  YOUNG  LADY  TO 
TAKE  THE  OATH,  is  IT  ?  AN'  SHE  's  AFTHER 
SAYING  SHE  'LL  SEE  us  DAMNED  FIRST  "  .  52 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

SERGEANT  BARKET — "  I  'VE  OFTEN  SEEN  CAP 
TAIN   HEARTSEASE  TAKE  A  SLY  LOOK  AT  A 
LITTLE  LACE   HANDKERCHIEF   JUST  BEFORE 
HE  WlNT  INTO  A  BATTLE"       ,  »         .         .       84 
Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

GEN.  BUCKTHORN — "WHAT!  You  DEFY  MY 
AUTHORITY  ?  COLONEL  WEST,  I  COMMAND 
You!  SEARCH  THE  PRISONER!"  .  .  116 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 


vi  Illustrations 

PAGE 

COL.  WEST — "  DURING  ALL  THIS  TERRIBLE 
WAR,  ...  I  HAVE  DREAMED  OF  A 
MEETING  LIKE  THIS"  .  .  .  .148 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

GEN.  BUCKTHORN  (reading) — "  '  GENERAL 
ROSSER  WILL  REJOIN  GENERAL  EARLY  WITH 

ALL  THE  CAVALRY  IN  ms  COMMAND  AT ' 

THIS     Is     IMPORTANT.      ANYTHING     ELSE, 
COLONEL?" 180 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

THORNTON — "  IF  I  HAVE  KILLED  HIM,  YOUR 
HONOR  WILL  BE  BURIED  IN  THE  SAME  GRAVE  "  214 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

"OUR  BRAVE  B'YES  HAVE  WIPED  OUT  THE 
ENEMY,  AND  GOT  AWAY  WITH  THE  PAPERS!"  246 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

FRANK — "WRITE!  WRITE!  To — MY  WIFE — 
EDITH:  TELL  OUR  LITTLE  SON,  WHEN  HE  Is 
OLD  ENOUGH  TO  KNOW,  HOW  HIS  FATHER 
DIED — NOT  HOW  HE  LIVED"  .  .  278 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

GERTRUDE — "  YOUR  WOUND  ! " 
COL.  WEST — "WOUND  ?    I  HAVE  No  WOUND! 
You  LOVE  ME?"         .  .         .  310 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

"AND  SHERIDAN  FIFTEEN  MILES  AWAY!"  332 

Drawn  by  John  W.  Ehninger 


Illustrations  vii 

PACK 

"TURN  BACK,  FELLOWS!    GENERAL  SHERIDAN 
is  COMING!"      ......     350 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 

THE   CHARGE  OF  THE   SIXTH  CORPS   AT  THE 
BATTLE  OF  CEDAR  CREEK          .         .         .     372 
From  a  War  Sketch  Made  for  Frank  Leslie's  Illus 
trated  Newspaper 

MOSBY'S    RAIDERS    ATTACK    A    COMMISSARY 

TRAIN .     386 

From  a  Sketch  by  a  War  Correspondent 


SHENANDOAH 


CHAPTER  I 

HAUGHTY  OLD  CHARLESTON 

"How  often  in  these  mansions  fine 
Were  friendships  pledged  in  rare  old  wine, 
Madeira  that  had  crossed  the  line, 
And  golden  sherry." 

"CHARLESTON  always  looks  to  me  as  if  it 
^•^  had  drifted  bodily  across  the  Atlantic, 
from  old  France  or  Spain,"  said  Colonel  Haverill, 
as  he  stood  gazing  out  harbor-ward  from  the  pil 
lared  veranda  of  the  roomy  colonial  mansion 
fronting  on  the  East  Battery. 

"I  can  return  the  compliment,  Colonel,"  replied 
his  host,  Dr.  Ellingham,  a  silver-haired  Southerner 
of  the  courtly  old  school,  "by  repeating  what  you 
have  heard  me  say  before  now — that  a  visit  to 
Boston  is  for  me  the  equivalent  of  breathing  again 
the — how  shall  I  say  it? — the  atmosphere  of  con 
servatism  and  culture,  austere  yet  kindly,  that 
was  once  supposed  to  belong  exclusively  to  our 
common  mother  country,  England." 


2  Shenandoah 

"Dear  me,  I  hadn't  thought  of  it,"  laughed 
Mrs.  Haverill,  the  Colonel's  wife.  "Such  mutual 
appreciation  ought  to  be  kept  in  practice.  At 
the  same  time,  let  us  hope  that  North  and  South 
may  never  be  alien  in  any  other  sense." 

"God  grant  it." 

"Amen." 

Fervent  as  these  expressions  were,  they  seemed 
tinged  with  some  indefinable  sense  of  sadness  and 
foreboding. 

It  was  early  spring  of  the  year  1861.  Sky  and 
water  in  that  Southern  seaboard  clime  were  blue, 
but  it  was  the  soft,  dreamy  blue  of  Mediterranean 
shores.  Nights  of  velvety  dusk  were  lit  with 
strangely  large,  low-hung  stars.  The  magnolias 
were  not  yet  in  bloom,  but  amid  the  moss-veiled 
live-oaks  already  the  mocking-birds  sang — or 
rather  rhapsodized  in  language  of  golden  tone, 
as  if  confiding  thrilling  secrets  that  burst  from 
stifled  hearts. 

Charleston  still  wore  unconsciously  an  Old- 
World  aspect,  a  sort  of  legendary  glamour  of 
feudalism,  the  real  or  imagined  heritage  of 
aristocratic  Huguenot  ancestors.  Outward  signs 
of  this  abounded  in  her  white  stuccoed  walls 
and  red  roofs  nestling  amidst  dense  foliage — her 
quaint  architecture  and  frowning  fortifications — 


Haughty  Old  Charleston  3 

the  stately  grace  and  roomy,  leisurely  look  of 
her  public  places  and  approaches. 

Socially,  this  "Bourbon"  spirit  impressed  itself 
upon  a  thousand  and  one  traditions,  usages, 
customs,  unwritten  laws,  even  peculiarities  of 
dress  and  speech,  vaguely  reminiscent  of  some 
bygone  regime,  pervading  all  classes  and  degrees. 
The  negroes  amusingly  reflected  these  traits,  in 
unwitting  caricature.  Some  of  them,  of  West 
Indian  origin,  spoke  French  fluently.  Many  of 
them  retained  odd  turns  of  Elizabethan  English 
phrase,  handed  down  directly  from  Raleigh's 
cavalier  "Virginians." 

Like  another  Venice,  this  haughty  mid-nine 
teenth  century  Charleston  sat  enthroned  by  the 
inviolate  sea,  sufficient  unto  herself,  her  heart 
swelling  with  what  to  her  was  proper  pride,  to 
the  outside  world  something  like  arrogant  as 
sumption. 

"Our  city,"  an  infant  essayist  of  Charleston  is 
reputed  to  have  written,  "is  between  the  Cooper 
and  the  Ashley  rivers,  which  unite  and  form  the 
ocean." 

It  was  a  splendid  dream,  while  it  lasted.  Life 
in  the  grand  manner  rolled  carelessly,  recklessly 
on.  The  rich  houses  facing  the  Battery  park 
were  filled  with  furniture,  books,  and  art  objects 


4  Shenandoah 

from  across  the  seas,  or  priceless  relics  of  colonial 
days — with  the  Georgian  masterpieces  of  Chippen 
dale  and  Sheraton — with  French  bronzes,  ormolu 
and  tapestries — with  family  portraits  painted  by 
Kneller,  Hoppner,  Raeburn,  Van  Loo,  or  by  their 
American  followers,  Copley,  Stuart,  Sharpies, 
West.  Rare  antique  plate,  china,  and  crystal 
gleamed  against  the  dark  mahogany  of  banquet- 
table  and  sideboard.  And  the  port  and  Madeira, 
the  Burgundy  and  brandies  in  the  cellar,  matched 
the  other  heirlooms  in  age  and  quality. 

The  social  laws  of  old  Charleston  were  conserv 
ative,  though  proudly  arbitrary;  and  it  was  quite 
as  difficult  for  a  stranger  to  invade  the  inner 
precincts  without  gilt-edged  credentials  as  it  is 
to-day  amongst  the  high  nobility  of  Europe. 
Neither  money,  nor  beauty,  nor  wit,  nor  learning, 
nor  official  position,  would  in  itself  suffice.  But 
without  any  of  these  advantages,  the  coveted 
passport  might  be  obtained  through  favorable 
recommendation  to  the  dames  and  dowagers  who 
were  the  arbiters  of  fashion  and  fate.  Then,  at 
the  magical  open  sesame,  the  most  exclusive 
dining-rooms  and  drawing-rooms  received  the 
stranger  into  full  communion,  without  reserva 
tion,  in  all  the  warm-hearted  effusion  that  made 
"Southern  hospitality"  a  proverb. 


Haughty  Old  Charleston  5 

Such  were  the  enviable  conditions — heightened 
rather  than  restrained  by  the  political  turmoil 
of  the  time — under  which  an  oddly  assorted  group 
of  people,  of  various  ages  and  conditions,  and 
including  besides  Charlestonians  a  number  of 
representatives  of  other  sections  of  the  South  as 
well  as  of  Northern  States,  planned  the  Ellingham 
ball,  for  the  second  week  in  April. 

Colonel  Haverill,  of  the  Regular  Army  of  the 
United  States,  had  been  a  Mexican  War  comrade 
of  the  late  Colonel  Ellingham,  of  Virginia.  When 
Ellingham  died,  Haverill  became  the  guardian  of 
his  two  children,  Robert  and  Gertrude. 

Robert  was  duly  graduated  from  West  Point, 
and  with  his  classmate  Kerchival  West,  of  Mas 
sachusetts,  went  with  the  rank  of  lieutenant  to  see 
active  service  on  the  plains,  in  the  regiment  of 
Colonel  Haverill.  Ordered  to  Washington,  Colo 
nel  Haverill  and  his  wife  were  now  travelling 
northward  via  Charleston,  accompanied  by  Lieu 
tenants  Ellingham  and  West.  Gertrude  Elling 
ham  had  come  on  from  the  family  homestead  in 
the  Shenandoah  Valley  of  Virginia,  to  meet  her 
brother  Bob.  Likewise,  Madeline  West  had 
hastened  to  join  her  brother  Kerchival,  and  in 
cidentally  to  enjoy  her  first  acquaintance  with 
the  fascinating  Southern  city. 


6  Shenandoah 

It  was  Robert  and  Gertrude,  of  course,  who  had 
brought  about  this  unwonted  assemblage  at  the 
Ellingham  mansion,  the  town  residence  of  the 
wealthy,  elderly  uncle,  Dr.  Marshall  Ellingham, 
a  widower,  and  noted  for  his  scholarly  tastes  and 
princely  hospitality. 

Nothing  less  than  a  ball — one  of  the  famous 
Ellingham  "levees" — could  fittingly  honor  the 
occasion. 

The  younger  set,  including  the  two  lieutenants, 
had  practically  no  other  subject  of  "serious"  dis 
cussion.  Secession  talk  was  rife,  to  be  sure,  and 
the  military  activities  going  on  were  such  as  to 
lead  to  but  one  logical  conclusion — that  war,  or 
something  very  like  it,  was  imminent.  But  love 
outranked  logic,  in  that  particular  camp,  at  least. 

The  sentimental  action  was  prompt  and  ani 
mated,  if  not  decisive.  At  the  very  opening  of 
the  campaign,  the  casualties  took  in  Kerchival 
West  and  his  demure,  dark-eyed  sister  Madeline; 
also,  as  mutual  offsetting  to  this  pair,  the  gallant 
Bob  Ellingham  and  his  sister  Gertrude,  the  latter 
a  spirited  girl  with  warm  bronze  hair  befitting  her 
emotional  temperament,  and  vivid  complexion 
to  match. 

"Kerchival!"  called  Madeline,  from  amongst 
the  oleander  shadows  on  the  veranda. 


Haughty  Old  Charleston  7 

But  it  was  Bob  who  gave  a  responsive  start, 
as  he  stood  chatting  with  West  in  the  drawing- 
room.  West  noted  it  with  amusement,  saying  to 
himself,  "Now,  what  can  there  be  about  my 
sister's  voice  to  make  a  man  jump  like  that?" 

Two  minutes  later,  Gertrude  called  "Brother 
Robert"  to  the  piano  to  turn  some  music  for  her, 
and  Kerchival  West  stood  riveted  to  the  spot  in 
such  a  spellbound  attitude  that  everybody  could 
see  at  a  glance  he  was  maundering  to  himself 
about  "How  the  tones  of  a  woman's  voice  can 
thrill  through  a  man's  soul!" 

The  girls  kept  their  counsel  better  than  that. 
Still,  in  one  way  or  another,  the  sentimental 
fluctuations  of  the  whole  quartette  were  discussed 
with  such  charming  frankness  that  whatever  heart 
secrets  they  had  were  open  ones. 

Before  the  date  of  the  ball  came  around,  matters 
had  reached  this  stage :  The  girls  paired  off  in  one 
corner,  and  the  boys  in  an  opposite  one,  and  eyed 
each  other  diagonally  across  the  room  while  the 
double  dialogue  ran  somewhat  as  follows: 

GERTRUDE:  I  've  got  something  to  say  to 
you,  Madeline,  dear. 

MADELINE  (as  they  clasp  arms  confidentially 
around  each  other's  waist) :  Yes? 

ROBERT:      Kerchival,     old     boy,     there's  — 


8  Shenandoah 

there 's  something  I  'd  like  to  let  you  know, 
while  you  're  here  in  Charleston. 

KERCHIVAL:  All  right,  Bob.  And  I  Ve  some 
thing  for  you,  also. 

MADELINE:  You  don't  really  mean  that, 
Gertrude—  With  me? 

ROBERT:  I  'm  in  love  with  your  sister 
Madeline. 

KERCHIVAL:    The  deuce  you  are! 

ROBERT:  I  never  suspected  it  myself  until 
last  night. 

GERTRUDE:  Robert  fell  in  love  the  first  time 
he  set  eyes  on  you. 

MADELINE:     (Kisses  Gertrude). 

KERCHIVAL:  I  've  discovered  something  about 
myself,  too,  Bob. 

MADELINE:  Now  I  'm  going  to  surprise  you, 
Gertrude. 

KERCHIVAL:    I  'm  in  love  with  your  sister. 

ROBERT:    W-h-a-t? 

MADELINE:  Kerchival  has  been  in  love  with 
you,  dear,  ever  since — well,  I  believe  ever  since 
long  before  you  met. 

KERCHIVAL:  I  fell  in  love  with  her  day  before 
yesterday. 

ROBERT  (seizing  KerchivaVs  hand):  We 
understand  each  other,  Kerchival. 


Haughty  Old  Charleston  9 

The  first  cloud  that  appeared  in  this  roseate 
sky  was  Edward  Thornton. 

Thornton  was  rather  a  handsome  fellow,  in  his 
insolent  way,  and  a  few  years  older  than  the  two 
lieutenants — that  is  to  say,  he  was  close  upon 
thirty.  He  had  more  than  the  assurance  of 
manner  that  such  advantage  might  perhaps  be 
expected  to  give  him — especially  with  Mrs.  Haver- 
ill,  the  Colonel's  wife.  Though  for  some  years  a 
resident  of  Charleston  and  Savannah,  he  had  come 
originally  from  the  North.  Rumor  declared  that 
he  had  once  been  a  naval  cadet  at  Annapolis, 
but  had  dropped  out,  or  been  dropped,  before  half 
way  through  his  course.  His  intercourse  with  the 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Haverill,  though  apparently  of 
long  standing  and  based  upon  some  sort  of  family 
association,  was  at  times  a  trifle  constrained. 

The  young  people  frankly  did  not  like  Thornton, 
though  none  of  them  had  said  so,  and  probably 
any  or  all  of  them  would  have  denied  the  charge 
had  it  been  made. 

At  any  rate,  Kerchival  and  Robert  looked 
askance  at  any  proposition  of  Thornton's  to  act 
as  escort  to  the  girls  on  their  walks  or  rides.  The 
latter,  on  the  contrary,  may  have  tacitly  encour 
aged  him,  in  their  inscrutable  feminine  fashion. 
Certainly  this  did  not  mend  matters. 


io  Shenandoah 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Ellingham  and  the  Colonel, 
and  Mrs.  Haverill  and  the  Pinckneys  (South 
Carolina  relatives  of  the  Ellinghams),  saw  graver 
portents  than  sentimental  ones  on  the  near  horizon. 
If  they  made  an  allusion  to  the  coming  festivity, 
it  was  to  wish  the  affair  well  over  and  out  of 
the  way.  Their  real  conversation  turned  upon 
questions  of  State  sovereignty,  the  "old  flag,"  and 
rights  as  to  secession  from  the  Union. 

Already,  in  December,  1860,  Charleston  had 
ratified  the  Ordinance  of  Secession,  adopted  in  a 
convention  which  declared  the  State  of  South 
Carolina  "no  longer  a  part  of  the  confederation 
known  as  the  United  States  of  America."  Six 
other  States — Mississippi,  Florida,  Alabama, 
Georgia,  Louisiana,  and  Texas,  had  respectively 
followed  the  lead  of  the  Palmetto  State,  passing 
ordinances  taking  themselves  out  of  the  Union; 
and  their  delegates  had  assembled  at  Montgomery, 
Alabama,  and  formed  a  new  government,  under  the 
name  of  the  Confederate  States  of  America. 

The  full  significance  of  these  proceedings,  how 
ever,  was  not  grasped  by  statesmen,  soldiers,  or 
the  people  at  large.  There  were  powerful  peace 
making  agencies,  especially  in  Virginia,  and  sober- 
minded  people  in  all  sections  of  the  country  hoped 
until  the  last  that  these  would  prevail. 


Haughty  Old  Charleston  n 

This  was  the  feeling  among  the  elders,  even  in 
Charleston — at  least,  in  the  immediate  circle  of 
the  Ellinghams  and  their  Northern  guests. 

"If  the  interests  of  your  manufacturing  and 
shipping  States  of  the  North,"  observed  Dr. 
Ellingham,  "and  of  our  agricultural  and  cotton 
States  of  the  South,  are  not  running  in  harmony, 
that  is  no  excuse  for  a  family  quarrel." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  Colonel  Haverill 
would  respond.  "It  is  an  awkward  thing  for  a 
soldier  to  take  sides  in  such  a  dispute.  Theoretic 
ally,  we  don't  have  to — the  Government  settles 
all  that  for  us,  and  we  simply  obey  orders.  I  feel 
confident  they  will  find  a  remedy  for  the  present 
break,  as  they  have  for  other  and  perhaps  worse 
ones  in  times  past.  If  it  were  not  for  the  slavery 
question " 

"Ah,"  sighed  the  Southern  conservative,  "if 
I  owned  the  four  million  slaves,  I  would  gladly 
give  them  all  up  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union. 
For  that  matter,  they  have  been  our  economical 
ruin,  anyway.  It  is  the  political  principle  involved 
that  we  are  committed  to.  If  ever  there  should 
be  a  sectional  war — which  God  forbid ! — it  will  be 
fought  in  sincere  devotion  to  an  abstraction,  and 
not  for  sordid  interests." 

"Well,  your  friend  Major  Ruffin  certainly  has 


12  Shenandoah 

more  decided  opinions  on  the  subject  than  both  of 
us  together,"  laughed  Haverill,  making  the  custom 
ary  effort  to  divert  the  conversation  into  lighter 
channels. 

Ruffin  was  a  striking  character,  typical  of  the 
time.  They  met  him  afternoons  at  the  Charleston 
Hotel,  or  on  sunny  mornings  walking  by  the 
Battery  sea-wall,  gazing  out  across  the  harbor  to 
where  the  Sumter  fortress  reared  its  forty-foot 
walls  on  an  artificial  island  built  on  the  shoals. 
This  was  one  of  the  important  fortifications  of  the 
seceding  States  whose  status  in  relation  to  the 
Federal  Government  was  in  ominous  dispute. 

"Sir,"  Ruffin  would  say,  impressively,  "if  the 
status  of  these  Federal  forts  in  the  seceded  States 
is  not  yet  determined,  it  is  high  time  it  should  be. 
If  an  appeal  to  arms  is  necessary, — and  I  can  see 
that  it  is,  sooner  or  later, — let  it  come  right  here, 
and  now.  It  is  appropriate  that  South  Carolina 
should  fire  the  first  shot,  since  she  is  the  foremost 
exponent  of  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  eco 
nomical  and  political  liberty  which  the  present 
Washington  Government  is  opposing." 

"But,  Major,"  Colonel  Haverill  would  protest, 
"I  understood  you  were  a  Virginian?  Virginia 
has  not  seceded." 

"Not  yet,  but  she  will — she  must.     I  am,  as 


Haughty  Old  Charleston  13 

you  say,  sir,  a  Virginian  born.  But  this  hanging 
fire  is  so  little  to  my  taste,  sir,  that  I  have  sold  my 
Virginia  property,  and  cast  my  allegiance  with 
South  Carolina,  for  the  present.  I  have  enlisted 
with  the  State  troops  here,  and  I  await  any  minute 
General  Beauregard's  call  to  the  batteries  he  is 
planting  all  around  Sumter." 

Major  Ruffin  was  a  white-haired,  elderly  man, 
sixty  years  old  if  a  day.  In  his  fiery  fanatical  zeal 
there  was  something  humorous — and  something 
tragic. 

Dr.  Ellingham  alluded  feelingly  to  the  crisis 
facing  loyal  citizens  of  the  border  States,  Virginia 
and  Kentucky. 

"It  occurs  to  me,"  he  added,  "that  Major 
Robert  Anderson,  commanding  the  garrison  at 
Fort  Sumter,  is  a  Southerner — a  Kentuckian,  I 
believe,  married  to  a  Georgia  lady,  and  a  slave 
owner.  Yet  I  am  sure  the  Federal  Government 
is  confident  of  his  loyalty,  in  leaving  its  interests 
here  in  his  charge." 

"So  much  so,"  Colonel  Haverill  joined  in,  ap 
provingly,  "that  I  understand  President  Lincoln 
is  to  send  gunboats  down  here  with  a  view  to 
relieving  the  Sumter  garrison,  evidently  in  anti 
cipation  of  a  state  of  siege." 

"If  President  Lincoln  is  doing  that  he  must 


14  Shenandoah 

have  a  correct  idea  of  the  gravity  of  the  situa 
tion.  And,  mark  my  words,  gentlemen,  that 
will  be  the  signal  for  the  actual  beginning  of 
hostilities." 

With  these  portentous  words,  Major  Ruffin 
saluted,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  marched  away. 

Haverill  was  glad  to  return  to  the  Ellingham 
house,  and  in  the  atmosphere  of  frivolity  and  bustle 
of  festive  anticipation  there  forget  the  warlike 
obsession  that  hung  as  a  lurid  cloud  over  the 
city. 

And  even  here,  amidst  the  light-hearted,  busy 
preparations  for  the  ball,  a  characteristic  incident 
impressed  him  once  again  with  the  width  and 
depth  of  the  chasm  dividing  Southern  customs 
and  habit  of  mind  from  those  of  his  Northland 
nativity. 

The  pompous  negro  majordomo,  known  as 
Peter  the  Great,  was  freely  consulted  by  the 
Ellinghams  and  Mrs.  Pinckney  in  regard  to  both 
details  and  essentials.  Among  the  latter,  he  was 
to  cany  the  invitations  by  hand.  He  even  looked 
over  the  list,  and  ventured  suggestions  concern 
ing  certain  names  which  should  be  crossed  off, 
and  certain  others  which  might  properly  be 
added. 

One  of  the  ladies  from  Washington  asked  Pete 


Haughty  Old  Charleston  15 

if  he  was  quite  sure  he  knew  where  all  these  people 
lived.     His  reply  was: 

"Madam,  if  there  is  any  pusson  in  Charleston 
who  lives  where  I  don't  know,  that  pusson 
should  n't  be  invited  to  the  Ellingham  ball." 


CHAPTER  II 

APRIL  WEATHER 

"How  doth  this  Spring  of  love  resemble 
Th'  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day!" 

/COLONEL  HAVERILL,  fifty-five  years  of  age, 
^"^  was  distinctively  an  American  soldier  type. 
He  was  in  the  full  flush  of  mature  manhood,  tall 
and  striking  in  appearance,  grave  and  precise  in 
manner,  without  any  undue  affectation  of  dignity, 
yet  by  habit  as  well  as  by  nature  inclined  to  sever 
ity  and  reserve.  His  army  reputation  was  that 
of  a  martinet — but  a  martinet  who  possessed  the 
confidence,  even  the  affection,  of  his  regiment, 
because  every  one  knew  that  his  pride  and  punc 
tiliousness  were  for  his  command,  for  the  service, 
and  for  the  flag — not  for  himself. 

A  veteran  of  the  Mexican  War,  he  was  happily 
married  to  his  second  wife,  a  New  York  belle  up 
to  the  time  of  her  becoming  the  Colonel's  bride, 
some  six  years  before  the  period  with  which  the 
present  narrative  is  concerned.  His  only  son, 

16 


April  Weather  17 

Frank,  was  at  that  time  a  boy  of  fourteen — bright 
and  spirited,  but,  as  the  Colonel  declared  with 
real  mortification,  evidently  not  cut  out  for  a 
soldier.  That  most  lamentable  deficiency — in 
the  father's  eyes — gave  color  to  the  assertion 
made  not  by  Mrs.  Haverill  alone,  that  the  Colonel 
thought  more  of  his  young  Southern  wards, 
Robert  and  Gertrude  Ellingham,  than  he  did  of 
his  own  son. 

However  this  may  have  been,  the  Colonel's 
young  wife  more  than  made  up  to  the  lad  the  de 
privation  of  his  father's  full  measure  of  paternal 
confidence  and  affection.  Having  no  children  of 
her  own,  she  gave  to  the  boy  what  in  his  infancy 
he  had  never  known — a  mother's  loving  care. 
His  own  mother  had  died  at  his  birth.  As  he  grew 
up  in  New  York,  amidst  good  family  associations 
and  in  comfortable  circumstances,  seeing  little  of 
his  father  and  experiencing  the  irksomeness  with 
out  the  companionship  of  that  parent's  strict 
control,  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  Frank 
came  perilously  near  to  being  spoiled. 

He  was  at  once  a  tie  between  Colonel  Haverill 
and  his  beautiful  young  wife,  and  their  only  cause 
of  discord. 

After  graduation  from  Columbia — instead  of 
from  West  Point,  as  the  Colonel  would  have  de- 


i8  Shenandoah 

sired,  if  such  a  choice  could  have  been  realized  in 
the  natural  course  of  events — Frank  Haverill  en 
tered  the  banking  house  of  the  Howards,  relatives 
of  his  stepmother.  This  had  seemed  a  promising 
connection — it  might  have  led,  possibly,  to  another 
matrimonial  alliance,  through  one  of  the  pretty 
daughters  of  the  family,  on  whom  the  young  clerk 
was  known  to  have  made  a  most  favorable  im 
pression — when  suddenly  he  ran  away  with  and 
married  Edith  Maury,  a  nice  enough  girl,  as  it 
was  said,  but  two  or  three  years  his  senior,  and  the 
daughter  of  an  impoverished  Southern  family, 
whose  home  was  in  New  Orleans. 

This  was  bad  enough.  Still,  a  rash  love  match 
is  not  in  itself  an  unpardonable  sin.  Frank  was 
forgiven,  at  least  a  truce  was  patched  up,  and  the 
prodigal  son  went  back  repentant,  as  it  seemed, 
to  his  stool  at  the  bank. 

Alas!  the  "prodigal"  climax  was  yet  to  come. 
Its  beginnings  had  dated  back  even  to  the  college 
days.  Edward  Thornton  had  been  much  in  New 
York,  then.  He  had  first  met  the  Haverills  at 
Saratoga.  Handsome,  reckless,  a  social  favorite 
and  sportsman  of  no  small  pretensions,  Thornton 
had  immediately  exercised  over  young  Frank 
an  influence  amounting  to  fascination  and  hero- 
worship.  Those  were  flush  times  of  racing,  of 


April  Weather  19 

gambling,  of  drinking,  and — south  of  the  Mason 
and  Dixon  line  especially — of  duelling.  Thornton 
took  the  eager,  precocious  boy  in  hand,  and  "made 
a  man  of  him."  It  was  such  a  "man"  as  the 
Colonel,  his  father,  absent  most  of  the  time  on 
Western  duty,  never  dreamed.  If  Mrs.  Haverill 
came  in  the  course  of  time  to  regard  the  compan 
ionship  with  uneasiness  and  suspicion,  she  thought 
it  the  part  of  discretion  to  keep  such  misgivings 
from  her  husband. 

So  it  was  that  every  step  in  Frank's  later  career 
had  come  as  a  surprise  to  his  father,  and  as  a  shock, 
until  a  positive  estrangement  had  grown  up. 
Duty,  rather  than  any  warmer  paternal  feeling, 
had  impelled  the  Colonel  to  keep  in  communication 
with  his  son,  and,  through  the  gentle  interposition 
of  his  own  wife,  to  continue  the  money  allowance 
meant  mainly  in  behalf  of  the  amiable  and 
unoffending  younger  Mrs.  Haverill. 

Matters  were  in  such  strained  relation  now, 
when  the  Colonel  and  his  wife  stopped  at  Charles 
ton,  on  their  way  North.  And  it  was  at  this 
fateful  moment  that  the  last  stroke  fell. 

The  day  before  the  Ellingham  ball,  Colonel 
Haverill  learned  from  the  New  York  newspapers, 
and  simultaneously  by  a  letter  from  his  lawyers 
there,  that  his  son  was  an  absconder  and  a  fugitive. 


2O  Shenandoah 

Under  suspicion  on  account  of  irregularities  dis 
covered  at  the  Howard  bank,  he  had  fled,  no  one 
knew  whither,  to  escape  arrest,  leaving  his  wife 
deserted  and  without  resources. 

Colonel  Haverill's  grief  and  rage  were  fearful. 
His  self-control  was  almost  tragic.  With  clenched 
hands  and  hard-set  face  he  paced  the  back  veranda 
upon  which  his  room  opened,  pausing  now  and 
again  to  mutter  a  few  words,  in  a  low  tone  meant 
to  be  calm,  to  his  wife,  who  sat  mutely  awaiting 
a  propitious  moment  to  offer  her  counsel. 

"I  might  have  expected  it,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"And  yet,  had  n't  I  enough  else  on  my  mind, 
just  now,  without  being  brought  to  face  a  thing 
like  this?  Well,  let  Fate  deal  with  him.  He 
deserves  the  worst  that  can  happen.  I  am  through 
with  him.  I  have  always  done  my  best  by  him, 
now  I  have  other  and  more  important  duties  to 
perform.  I  am  an  officer  of  the  United  States 
Army.  The  name  which  my  son  bears  came  to 
him  from  men  who  had  borne  it  with  honor,  and 
I  transmitted  it  to  him  without  a  blot.  He  has 
disgraced  it,  and  he  has  no  longer  any  right  to 
bear  it.  I  renounce  him.  From  now  on  I  have 
no  son — I  am  childless." 

"But,  John, — there  is  his  poor  young  wife 

"His  marriage  was  a  piece  of  reckless  folly, 


The  First  Battle  of  Bull  Run. — "  The  repulse  became  a  rout." 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 


April  Weather  21 

but  I  forgave  him  that.     Now,  thorough  scoundrel 
that  he  is,  he  has  deserted  the  girl." 

"Don't  judge  him  too  hastily,  John.  He  loved 
her,  I  am  sure.  May  it  not  have  been  that  it  was 
only  after  another  was  dependent  upon  him,  that 
the  debts  of  a  thoughtless  spendthrift — for  he 
was  nothing  worse — drove  him  to  desperation — 
to  fraud,  perhaps — I  will  not  believe  to  crime?" 

''His  wife  shall  be  provided  for — my  lawyers 
have  their  instructions,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
curtly. 

The  young  wife  went  on,  in  a  firmer  yet  still 
pleading  voice: 

"Your  son  has  something  more  to  expect  from 
you,  also.  I  am  thinking  of  what  you  have  so 
often  told  me — of  the  poor  mother  who  died  when 
he  was  born — her  whose  place  I  have  tried  to  fill, 
both  to  Frank  and  to  you.  I  never  saw  her,  and 
she  is  sleeping  in  the  old  graveyard  at  home.  But 
I  am  doing  what  she  would  do  to-day,  if  she  were 
living.  No  pride,  no  disgrace,  could  have  turned 
her  face  from  him.  The  care  and  love  of  her  son 
have  been  to  me  my  most  sacred  duty — the  most 
sacred  duty  which  one  woman  can  assume  for 
another." 

'I  know  it" — the  Colonel  spoke  as  if  he  were 
choking — "you  have  fulfilled  that  duty,  Constance. 


22  Shenandoah 

God  bless  you !  Now,  leave  me  to  myself  a  little. 
There  are  more  things  than  one  to  trouble  my 
mind." 

Mrs.  Haverill  threw  a  kiss  to  her  husband, 
stole  softly  out  of  the  room,  closing  the  door 
behind  her,  passed  through  the  spacious  galleries 
and  down  the  broad  winding  stairs  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

What  a  splendid,  old  colonial,  baronial,  hospit 
able  mansion  it  was!  There  was  a  vast  central 
rotunda,  domed  with  a  skylight  of  colored  glass; 
and  around  this  open  space,  on  all  the  four  floors 
from  ground  to  roof,  circled  the  gallery  corridors 
from  which  heavy  oaken  doors  opened  into  guest 
chambers,  living  rooms,  and  sunny  nooks  innum 
erable,  some  looking  out  upon  Charleston  harbor 
and  oceanward,  others  at  the  rear  and  sides  of 
the  house  having  vine-clad  balconies,  or  else  the 
aforesaid  practicable  verandas  that  ran  all  the  way 
around  outside.  On  the  main  floor  the  two  grand 
salons,  which  could  be  thrown  into  one,  fully 
eighty  feet  long,  extended  the  whole  length  of  the 
house,  with  vast  open  fireplaces  and  imposing 
marble  mantels  at  either  end. 

Here  was  the  Erard  piano,  a  "grand"  of  the 
ante-bellum  period.  Spindle-legged  and  carved- 
back  chairs  and  tapestry  sofas  were  set  against 


April  Weather  23 

the  polished  dark  woodwork  of  the  wainscoting. 
Candelabra  of  silver,  brass,  and  crystal,  with  tall 
wax  candles,  stood  in  state  on  claw-footed  tables 
topped  with  Italian  marble  and  mosaic.  Ruddy- 
faced  ancestral  portraits,  some  of  them  in  gold- 
laced  Continental  uniforms  of  the  Revolution  or 
of  1812,  peered  from  the  rich  gloom  of  lofty  walls. 
Peter  the  Great,  in  sombre  livery,  patrolled  this 
noble  hall,  and  at  each  door  was  stationed  a 
smiling  mulatto  maid  servant,  in  readiness  to 
minister  to  the  wants  or  fancies  of  guests  and 
household. 

Through  a  high-arched  doorway  leading  into 
the  dining-room,  glimpses  were  caught  of  the 
polished  mahogany  table,  of  the  silver  service  and 
rare  old  china  resting  on  damask  mats,  and  of  the 
great  rosewood  sideboard  reaching  to  the  ceiling 
with  its  ecclesiastical-looking  glass  doors  and 
white-knobbed,  bellied  drawers,  and  cut-glass 
decanters  glowing  with  ruby  port  and  topaz 
Madeira,  brandy,  and  whiskey. 

Everywhere,  as  Mrs.  Haverill  descended  after 
her  troublous  interview  with  the  Colonel,  the 
younger  people  were  blissfully  lounging  or  cir 
culating  about,  still  talking  love  and  war. 

They  had  a  new  and  breezy  accession  to  their 
ranks,  in  the  person  of  Jenny  Buckthorn, 


24  Shenandoah 

"U.  S.  A."  She  was  the  daughter  of  bluff  old 
General  Francis  Buckthorn,  of  the  Regular  Army, 
and  had  been  born  and  brought  up  in  a  military 
camp  on  the  Western  plains.  From  her  first 
baby  squall,  it  was  understood,  she  had  virtually 
commanded  the  garrison.  Now  she  had  the  ways 
and  gait  of  a  trooper,  paradoxically  combined 
with  the  full  complement  of  feminine  graces  and 
the  heart  of  a  coquette. 

"We  're  going  to  see  active  service,  now — sooner 
than  you  civilians  seem  to  suspect,"  announced 
Jenny,  to  an  attentive  group  of  listeners  under 
the  front  portico.  "Our  boys  are  already  under 
marching  orders,  in  Washington.  And  we  army 
girls — well,  of  course  we  don't  go  to  the  front 
until  it  becomes  absolutely  necessary;  but  all 
the  same,  we  're  ready  to  scrape  lint  and  flirt  with 
the  officers  of  the  home  guard.  Your  General 
Beauregard  is  riding  his  high  horse,  it  seems.  Tell 
him  for  me  that  he  'd  better  mind  what  he  's 
doing  or  we  '11  have  Heartsease  down  here  after 
him." 

"And  who  is  Heartsease,  pray?"  inquired 
Gertrude  Ellingham,  who  of  late  was  developing 
an  unwonted  interest  in  the  Federal  military 
service. 

"Heartsease?     Brevet     Captain     Heartsease? 


April  Weather  25 

Why,  he  is  one  of  my  favorite  cavalry  officers. 
You  '11  hear  about  him." 

"Yes — wherever  Miss  Buckthorn  is,  for  five 
minutes  or  so,"  whispered  Bob  Ellingham  to 
Madeline  West.  "I  know  Heartsease.  Not  a  bad 
fellow,  but  the  biggest  fop  that  was  ever  misdealt 
into  the  cavalry.  You  ought  to  hear  what  General 
Buckthorn  says  about  him.  Wears  a  single  eye 
glass  at  guard  mount,  and  carries  a  scented  lace 
handkerchief  at  cross-country  drill." 

Gertrude  Ellingham  drew  Jenny  aside  and 
asked  her: 

"How  is  it  to  have  a  sweetheart  who  is  a 
soldier?" 

"It's  all  right,"  answered  Jenny,  promptly. 
"I  would  n't  have  a  sweetheart  who  was  n't 
a  soldier — a  Northern  soldier,  of  course." 

A  flush  of  pleasure  stole  over  Gertrude's  face, 
then  died  out  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come,  and  she 
looked  very  silent  and  serious. 

Madeline  West  murmured  to  Robert  Elling 
ham: 

"It  is  only  lately  that  I  have  realized  there 
are  Northern  soldiers  and  Southern  soldiers.  I 
thought  there  was  but  one  flag,  and  that  you  all 
served  under  it." 

"That  is  what  I  was  brought  up  to  believe," 


26  Shenandoah 

replied  the  young  lieutenant,  "but  some  unac 
countable  change  has  come  about,  and  I  can't 
see  which  section  is  the  aggressor.  I  'm  sure  we 
of  the  South  don't  want  trouble,  unless  a  lot  of 
far-away  busybodies  insist  upon  making  it." 

"But  it  seems  to  me,"  interposed  Kerchival 
West,  "that  the  people  of  Charleston  are  taking 
an  extraordinary  interest  in  the  preparations  to 
bombard  Fort  Sumter.  They  look  forward  to 
such  an  event  as  if  it  were  to  be  a  gala  day.  Out 
side  of  this  house,  dear  old  Bob,  I  hear  nothing 
else  talked  about.  Drills  seem  to  have  taken  the 
place  of  dances,  and  all  gayeties  somehow  smell 
of  gunpowder.  Why,  even  the  ladies  are  betting 
bonbons  that  Sumter  will  capitulate  without 
firing  a  shot." 

As  if  to  confirm  his  words,  Gertrude  and  Made 
line  forthwith  started  a  little  friendly  spat  about 
General  Beauregard. 

"He  's  a  bad  wicked  man,"  declared  Madeline, 
sweepingly,  as  she  gazed  off  in  the  direction  of  Forts 
Moultrie  and  Johnston. 

"Oh,  Madeline,  you  're  a  saucy  Yankee  girl  to 
say  such  a  thing,"  retorted  Gertrude. 

"I  am  a  loyal  Northern  girl." 

"And  I  am  a  loyal  Southern  girl." 

"Ah!  the  war  has  begun,"  exclaimed  Edward 


April  Weather  27 

Thornton,  banteringly,  as  he  approached  from 
the  outward  gateway. 

But  he  was  not  sufficiently  in  favor  with  the 
girls  to  divert  their  attention  from  one  another. 
Gertrude  returned  to  the  charge. 

"General  Beauregard  is  a  patriot." 

"He  is  a  rebel." 

"So  am  I,  then." 

"  Gertrude!— You— I " 

"Madeline!— I— you " 

"Oh,  dear " 

Then  they  both  burst  into  tears  and  fell  into 
each  other's  arms,  sobbing  and  kissing. 

"If  there  should  be  a  war  between  North  and 
South,"  laughed  Ellingham,  "that 's  about  the 
way  it  will  begin  and  end — eh,  Kerchival?" 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Mrs.  Haverill  ap 
peared.  Before  she  had  time  to  join  the  group, 
Thornton  hastened  forward  to  meet  her,  and  said 
in  a  low,  hurried  tone: 

"I  must  see  you  alone — I  have  important  news 
for  you." 

"Are  there — any  further  tidings  of  Frank?" 
she  inquired,  eagerly. 

"Yes — we  must  not  talk  here," — as  they  passed 
out  together  into  the  hall,  and  paused  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs.  "Frank  is  here — in  Charleston." 


CHAPTER  III 

AFTER  THE  BALL 

"On  with  the  dance!  let  joy  be  unconfined; 
No  sleep  till  morn,  when  Youth  and  Pleasure  meet 
To  chase  the  flying  Hours  with  flying  feet." 

THE  halls  were  decked  and  garlanded,  ball 
dresses  were  laid  out  in  readiness,  and  the 
young  people  were  practising  minuets.  There 
might  be  a  feeling  of  suspense  in  the  air,  but  to 
these  elastic  hearts  it  simply  meant  that  impatient 
hours  must  still  intervene  before  the  real  festivities 
began. 

Towards  twilight  Kerchival  West  and  Robert 
Ellingham,  as  if  moved  by  a  common  impulse, 
strolled  across  the  Battery  park  and  along  the 
old  sea-wall  together. 

"Bob,  old  comrade,"  the  former  began,  "I  have 
something  I  want  to  mention  to  you — something 
rather  outside  our  ordinary  line  of  discussion, 

you   know,   but   still — under   the   circumstances 
» 

"Is  it  about  Thornton?" 
28 


After  the  Ball  29 

"It  is  about  Mrs.  Haverill — the  Colonel's  wife." 

"I  understand — certainly,  old  boy — tell  me  all 
you  know." 

"Well,  I  was  passing  along  the  gallery  of  the 
second  floor,  on  my  way  to  my  room,  when  I  heard 
a  muffled  scream,  then  a  lady's  voice  uttering 
violent,  or  rather  hysterical,  exclamations.  The 
sounds  came  from  one  of  the  principal  guest 
rooms,  as  I  supposed,  but  whose,  I  did  n't  know. 
Then  the  door  was  opened  hastily,  and  Mrs. 
Haverill  appeared,  looking  alarmingly  ill  or  else 
terribly  frightened,  and  trembling  with  excitement. 
As  soon  as  she  saw  me  she  started  back,  as  if  to 
close  the  door  again,  then  she  wavered,  and,  saying 
'I  feel  a  little  faint,  that  is  all — pardon  me,'  she 
sank  down  into  a  chair." 

"And  was  any  one  with  her?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of.  I  did  have  an  impression 
—  Anyway,  she  recovered  herself  quickly,  after 
I  had  saturated  my  handkerchief  with  ammonia, 
and  eau  de  Cologne,  and  anything  else  that 
chanced  to  be  at  hand,  and  given  it  to  her.  She 
would  be  all  right,  she  said,  and  I  was  not  to  let 
such  a  foolish  little  incident  disturb  me,  on  any 
account.  Still " 

"Still,  the  'foolish  little  incident'  must  have 
had  a  serious  cause  behind  it,  eh?" 


3O  Shenandoah 

"So  I  thought.  But  it  may  have  been  only  a 
mouse." 

11  Or  it  may  have  been  Thornton.  I  was  right ! ' ' 
exclaimed  Ellingham,  striking  the  clenched  fist 
of  one  hand  into  the  palm  of  the  other. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Kerchival, 
quickly. 

"Have  n't  you  noticed  the  attentions  Thornton 
has  been  forcing  on  Mrs.  Haverill,  lately? — press 
ing,  not  to  say  insolent?" 

"Yes,  now  you  mention  it." 

"He  is  an  old  acquaintance — knew  the  son  in 
New  York — and  the  Colonel  takes  him  for 
granted,  so  to  speak.  All  the  same,  he  is  no 
friend  of  mine,  and  if  I  had  the  say,  he  would  n't 
be  a  guest  at  the  house  to-night.  He  is  not  a 
Charlestonian,  anyway,  unless  it  be  through  out- 
Heroding  Herod,  and  taking  up  with  exaggeration 
any  vices  or  passions  that  may  be  peculiar  to  the 
Southland.  Every  place  is  liable  to  its  scandals, 
I  suppose  —  but  that  of  a  man's  invading  a 
married  lady's  apartment  is  certainly  not  com 
mon  hereabouts.  That  is  what  Thornton  has  had 
the  reputation  of  doing,  before  now.  What  is 
more,  he  once  killed  a  lady's  husband  in  a  duel." 

"And  you  think  he  is  in  a  way  to  repeat  the 
adventure  now?" 


After  the  Ball  31 

"As  far  as  insulting  the  lady  is  concerned — 
yes.  I  was  smoking  on  the  lawn,  and  I  heard  the 
scream  myself — it  must  have  been  the  same  one 
that  alarmed  you.  I  looked  up  to  the  balcony 
windows,  and — unless  my  imagination  fooled  me — 
I  saw  the  shadow  silhouette  of  Edward  Thornton 
against  the  curtain." 

"Then,  by  heaven,  Bob " 

"It  must  n't  get  to  the  Colonel.  Leave  Thorn 
ton  to  me." 

"A  pretext  is  all  that  is  necessary.  If  you  don't 
find  it,  I  will." 

Absorbed  in  conversation  the  two  young  men 
had  made  the  circuit  of  the  park,  and  now  stood 
again  in  front  of  the  Ellingham  house,  which  was 
brilliantly  illuminated  as  the  deeper  shadows  of 
evening  fell. 

There  were  other  illuminations,  too,  marked  by 
West  and  Ellingham,  but  without  comment,  as  they 
looked  up  the  unusually  animated  streets  leading  to 
the  heart  of  the  city.  Even  St.  Michael's  Church 
showed  a  light  in  its  venerable,  historic  spire. 
But  that  may  have  been  for  prayer-meeting. 

"I  wonder  when  and  where  we  shall  next  meet 
after  to-night,  Bob,"  said  Kerchival,  impulsively, 
as  they  paused  an  instant  at  the  gateway  o|  the 
Ellingham  mansion. 


32  Shenandoah 

"God  knows,"  answered  Robert. 

They  shook  hands  in  silence,  then  hurried  in  to 

dress. 

Violins,  flute,  harp,  guitar,  and  piano,  made  a 
delightful  dance-music  band.  For  prelude  and 
interlude,  some  sweet  voice  would  blend  with  the 
Erard's  accompaniment  in  "Sweet  Evalina,"  or 
"The  Dew  Is  on  the  Blossom."  The  negroes  with 
their  banjos  sat  out  beneath  the  magnolias,  and 
needed  but  the  slightest  signal  to  break  into  the 
mellow-rhythmed  "O  Lor',  Ladies,  don't  yo'  Mind 
Stephen,"  or  "Sweet  Nellie  Is  by  my  Side,"  or 
maybe  even  some  quaint,  immemorial  camp- 
meeting  hymn,  like 

"My  days  are  gliding  swiftly  by, 

And  I  a  pilgrim  stranger, 
Would  not  detain  them  as  they  fly, 

Those  days  of  toil  and  danger. 
For  O !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand, 

Our  friends  are  passing  over, 
And  just  before,  the  shining  shore 

We  may  almost  discover." 

Robert  and  Kerchival  were  as  eager  as  any  one 
for  the  dancing,  yet  they  could  not  enter  into  the 
spirit  of  the  affair  and  engage  their  partners  (as  a 
matter  of  fact,  these  latter,  meaning  chiefly 
Madeline  and  Gertrude,  did  not  make  an  early 


After  the  Ball  33 

appearance  in  the  parlors),  until  their  anxiety 
about  Mrs.  Haverill  should  be  allayed.  Would 
she  find  an  excuse  to  avoid  the  ordeal  of  gayety, 
under  the  eyes  of  at  least  two  persons  who  knew 
of  the  shock  she  had  suffered  but  a  few  hours 
previously? 

No  such  concern  seemed  to  hold  Edward 
Thornton  back.  He  was  here,  there,  and  every 
where,  over-acting  if  anything  the  r61e  of  "the 
life  of  the  party,"  and  never  missing  a  dance. 

Suddenly  the  Colonel's  beautiful  wife,  flanked 
by  the  two  vivacious  girls,  and  herself  looking  the 
picture  of  health  and  radiance,  in  a  specially 
modish  ball-gown  of  flowered  satin,  sailed  into 
the  salon  like  the  star  of  a  stage  play. 

It  was  the  official,  formal  opening  of  the  ball, 
as  Dr.  Ellingham  led  her  out  for  the  minuet — 
Mozart's  from  "Don  Juan."  Robert  and  Ker- 
chival,  with  no  less  alacrity,  seized  upon  Madeline 
and  Gertrude  for  one  of  the  few  waltzes  on  the 
order  of  dancing.  Jenny  Buckthorn  let  Thornton 
put  her  down  for  the  same  number,  and  uncon 
sciously  averted  an  awkward  crisis,  for  the  auda 
cious  fellow  evidently  was  bent  upon  brazening  it 
out  with  Mrs.  Haverill,  face  to  face. 

Polka  mazurka  alternated  with  polka  redowa, 
and  that  old  English  rout  of  our  forefathers,  known 


34  Shenandoah 

as  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  turned  up  under  the 
name  of  the  Virginia  reel.  There  were  plenty  of 
comfortable  intermissions,  and  moreover,  every 
body  in  turn  played  the  wallflower,  or  flirted 
through  dances  to  heart's  content.  The  punch 
bowls  on  the  grand  sideboard  were  filled  and 
emptied,  sweetmeats  were  heaped  upon  crystal 
dishes,  salads  and  jellies  masqueraded  in  wondrous 
designs,  and  the  escalloped  oysters  and  fried 
chicken — ah!  here  is  where  imagination  must  be 
appealed  to — in  vain. 

One  thing  rather  noticeable  was  the  considerable 
number  of  men  present  in  army  or  navy  uniforms. 
Of  course,  Charleston  being  a  seaport  and  military 
station,  this  circumstance  called  for  no  special 
explanation.  But  a  special  explanation  was  forth 
coming,  before  the  night  was  over. 

"Do  you  know  what  Mrs.  Pinckney  says?" 
Gertrude  Ellingham  asked  Lieutenant  Kerchival 
West.  "She  has  invited  a  party  of  friends  to  her 
house  to  witness  the  firing  on  Sumter — the  Pinck 
ney  place  commands  a  better  view  of  the  forts 
than  this  one  does,  you  know.  They  are  to  break 
fast  on  the  piazza,  while  looking  at  the  bombard 
ment.  We  can  ride  over  and  join  them,  after 
the  ball,  if  you  like." 

"How    delightful!"    responded    Kerchival,    in 


After  the  Ball  35 

rather  a  forced  tone  of  gayety.  "I  hope,  however, 
that  they  won't  wait  for  breakfast  until  the  fortress 
is  bombarded." 

"You  think  it  will  be  a  long  wait?  Well, 
Lieutenant  West,  I  '11  bet  you  an  embroidered 
cigar  case  against  a  box  of  gloves  that  the  first 
gun  is  fired  before  sunrise." 

"Done!  You  will  lose  the  bet,  Miss  Gertrude, 
— unless  Major  Ruffm,  unable  to  curb  his  impa 
tience  any  longer,  should  steal  out  and  touch  off 
a  mortar  on  his  own  hook.  Not  that  I  should  n't 
be  overjoyed  to  offer  you  the  gloves — particularly 
if — well,  in  the  hope  that — that  one  of  the  little 
hands  belonging  inside  them  shall " 

They  were  in  the  shadow  of  the  oleanders,  as 
he  spasmodically  seized  one  of  the  aforesaid  little 
hands.  She  withdrew  it  almost  as  promptly, 
murmuring : 

"Shall  remain  in  my  own  keeping  for  the  present, 
until  some  one  comes  along  who  has  a  good  excuse 
for  claiming  it.  So,  you  don't  believe  that  General 
Beauregard  is  going  to  open  fire  on  Sumter  this 
morning?" 

"No — of  course  not." 

"Well,  I  happen  to  know  that  everything  is  in 
readiness." 

"It  is  a  heap  easier  to  have  everything  in  readi- 


36  Shenandoah 

ness  to  do  a  thing,  than  it  is  to  do  it.  For  instance, 
I  have  been  ready  a  dozen  times  to-day  to  say  to 
you,  Miss  Gertrude,  that — that  I " 

"Well,  sir?" 

"But  I  did  n't,  you  know." 

"Very  likely  General  Beauregard  has  more 
nerve  than  you  have." 

"Oh,  it  is  easy  enough  to  set  a  few  batteries 
around  Charleston  harbor.  But  when  it  comes 
to  firing  the  first  shot  at  a  woman— 

"At  a  woman?  Why,  what  are  you  talking 
about?" 

"I  mean,  at  the  American  flag — a  man  must  be 
a — must  have  the  nerves  of " 

"You  Northern  men  are  so  slow  to " 

"Yes,  I  know  I  Ve  been  slow — but  I  assure  you, 
Miss  Gertrude,  that  my  heart " 

"You  are  getting  all  mixed  up.  What  subject 
are  we  on  now?" 

"You  were  reproaching  me  for  being  too  slow." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,  sir — the  idea!  Why 
don't  you  let  me  finish?  I  say  you  Northern  men 
are  so  slow  to  understand  that  our  Southern  men 
mean  what  they  say.  They  have  sworn  to  attack 
Fort  Sumter  to-morrow  morning — or  is  it  this 
morning,  already? — and  they  will  do  it.  This 
American  flag  you  talk  of  is  no  longer  our  flag — 


After  the  Ball  37 

we  have  withdrawn  from  its  allegiance — your 
Washington  Government  treats  us  as  enemies, 
so  its  flag  is  now  foreign  to  us." 

Kerchival  West  stood  silent  and  stunned,  for  a 
moment.  Then,  he  said,  with  grave  tenderness: 

"Am  I  your  enemy?" 

"Are  n't  you  going  North  to  join  in  the  threat 
ened  invasion  of  our  Southern  Confederate  States?  " 

"Yes — that 's  our  orders,  I  believe." 

"You  are  ready  to  fight  against  my  friends, 
against  my  own  brother,  your  comrade.  If  that 
don't  make  us  enemies,  what  does?" 

"Nothing  can  make  me  your  enemy,  Gertrude. 
My  services  belong  to  my  country,  at  call.  I 
belong  to  the  North " 

"And  I  am  a  Southern  woman.  There  the 
fatal  line  is  drawn." 

Another  moment  of  silence  ensued,  then  the 
lieutenant  said: 

"We  have  more  at  stake  between  us  than  a 
cigar  case  and  a  box  of  gloves!" 

Here  Thornton  and  Jenny  Buckthorn  came  up. 
Evidently  their  conversation  had  been  taking  a 
turn  in  a  similar  direction  to  that  of  Kerchival 
and  Gertrude. 

"I  'm  glad  the  attack  is  to  be  made  on  Sumter 
at  last,"  declared  Thornton. 


38  Shenandoah 

"I  do  not  share  your  pleasure  in  that  prospect," 
said  a  serious  voice,  over  Gertrude's  shoulder — 
it  was  that  of  her  brother,  Lieutenant  Robert 
Ellingham. 

"And  you  are  a  Southern  gentleman,"  retorted 
Thornton,  with  the  customary  shade  of  supercili 
ousness. 

"And  you  are  a  Northern — 'gentleman'." 

With  the  reluctant  accent  Bob  gave  to  the 
word  "gentleman,"  it  actually  seemed  to  be  in 
quotation  marks,  with  an  interrogation  point 
after  it. 

"I  am  a  Southerner  by  choice.  I  shall  join 
the  cause,"  said  Thornton  curtly. 

"We  can  take  care  of  our  own  rights,  sir.  They 
will  be  safe  in  our  keeping,  even  if  you  should 
not  find  it  to  your  interest  to  run  risks  in  our 
behalf." 

"You  '11  find  me  ready  for  any  risk  you  like," 
muttered  Thornton,  turning  on  his  heel. 

Jenny  Buckthorn  had  already  flounced  away 
from  his  side,  to  take  up  a  more  agreeable  line 
of  chatter  with  some  one  who  claimed  personal 
acquaintance  with  that  gallant  but  far-away 
cavalry  officer,  Heartsease. 

At  the  same  moment,  Colonel  Haverill,  who  had 
not  participated  in  the  dancing,  approached  from 


After  the  Ball  39 

the  direction  of  his  wife's  apartment.  He  held 
in  his  hand  a  white  silk  handkerchief,  which  he 
immediately  offered  to  Lieutenant  West,  who  took 
it,  glanced  at  the  initials — his  own — thanked  his 
superior  officer,  and  passed  out  to  the  veranda 
overlooking  the  lawn,  where  many  colored  lanterns 
twinkled.  Here,  almost  as  if  by  preconcerted 
arrangement,  Mrs.  Haverill  joined  him,  a  moment 
later. 

"Madam,"  said  the  young  man,  with  embar 
rassed  solicitude,  "I  beg  to  tell  you  how  happy 
I  am  to  see  that  your  indisposition  has  vanished — 
also  to  offer  humble  apologies  for  my  awkwardness 
and  helplessness  when  I  undertook  to  rush  to  your 
aid.  You  can  always  depend  upon  me  to  act  the 
part  of  an  idiot,  in  such  an  emergency.  Fortu 
nately,  I  was  able  to  find  Miss  Gertrude  and  my 
sister,  and  send  them  to  you  in  time  to  be  of  real 
service.  Colonel  Haverill  has  just  handed  me 
back  my  handkerchief." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  lieutenant,  for  everything. 
I  suppose  my  husband  had  been  to  my  room  look 
ing  for  me.  Something  came  up  to-day  that  has 
upset  us  both  a  bit.  And  it  is  in  regard  to  that 
matter  that  I  wish  to  ask  you  now  to  do  me  a 
favor — a  great  service.  Will  you?" 

"Pray  command  me,  Mrs.  Haverill,"  answered 


40  Shenandoah 

Kerchival,  with  his  heart  thumping  in  wild, 
wondering  excitement. 

"It  is  about  the  Colonel's  son,  Frank.  You 
know  the  trouble  he  has  got  into,  in  New  York. 
He  has  escaped  arrest,  and  I  have  just  received 
word  that  he  is  here  in  Charleston.  I  am  the 
only  one  he  can  turn  to.  His  father  is  stern  and 
uncompromising,  in  his  humiliation.  I  want  you 
to  find  Frank,  and  arrange  for  me  to  meet  him  as 
soon  as  possible,  if  you  can  do  it  with  safety.  I 
shall  give  you  a  letter  for  him.  I  should  like  you 
to  take  it,  at  daylight,  if  possible.  It  is  a  sad 
errand  and  I  know  of  none  but  yourself  whom  I 
can  trust  with  it." 

Lieutenant  Kerchival  West  bowed  profoundly. 

"  I  will  get  ready  at  once,"  he  said.  "I  can  change 
my  clothes  in  five  minutes." 

How  he  welcomed  this  spur  to  action!  The 
ball  had  ended  for  him,  at  the  last  words  of 
Gertrude. 

He  kept  his  word  within  the  five  minutes  speci 
fied,  and  came  back  booted  and  spurred  to  report 
to  the  Colonel's  wife.  She  was  not  where  he  had 
left  her,  but  he  heard  low,  earnest  voices  at  the 
other  end  of  the  shadowed  veranda. 

"If  my  husband  knew,"  Mrs.  Haverill's  voice 
was  saying,  "he  would  kill  you,  Edward  Thornton 


After  the  Ball  41 

— unless  you  treacherously  took  advantage  and 
shot  him  down  without  remorse.  You  know  I  am 
innocent — I  never  gave  you  any  hint  of  encourage 
ment — and  the  last  I  remember  you  were  crouch 
ing  before  me  like  a  whipped  cur.  But  I  have 
kept  the  secret,  and  you  must.  Avoid  meeting 
Colonel  Haverill  before  we  leave  Charleston." 

"You  have  my  apology,"  whispered  Thornton. 

"That  is  not  what  I  have  asked." 

"Do  you  mean  by  that,  that  you  will  not  accept 
amends?" 

"For  my  husband's  sake —  "  the  woman  pleaded. 

"Ah!  Your  anxiety  on  his  account,  madam, 
makes  me  feel  that  perhaps,  after  all,  my  offence 
is  indeed  unpardonable.  What  an  absurd  blunder 
for  a  gentleman  to  make !  If  I  had  n't  supposed 
it  was  Lieutenant  Kerchival  West  who  was  my 
rival " 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?" 

"But  instead,  it  is  your  husband  who  stands 
between  us " 

"How  dare  you,  sir!"  cried  the  exasperated 
lady,  now  on  the  verge  of  hysterics.  "Let  me 
tell  you,  whatever  I  may  wish  to  spare  my  husband, 
he  fears  nothing  for  himself.  But,  no!  I  entreat 
of  you,  do  not  let  this  horrible  affair  go  any 
farther!" 


42  Shenandoah 

Kerch! val  West,  having  no  choice  but  to  over 
hear,  was  of  the  same  mind.  He  now  stepped 
forward  decisively,  saying: 

"Pardon  me.  I  hope  I  am  not  interrupting. 
I  believe,  Mrs.  Haverill,  you  have  an  errand 
forme?" 

"Yes!"  she  exclaimed,  eagerly,  "thank  you  so 
much!  I  will  go  and  write  the  note  immediately. 
Pray  excuse  me,  Mr.  Thornton." 

Without  another  word,  she  hastened  away. 
The  two  men  bowed,  and  waited  in  silence  until 
she  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing.  Then  Kerchival 
West  drew  himself  up  and  said,  quietly: 

"Thornton!  you  are  a  damned  scoundrel.  Do 
I  make  myself  plain?" 

"You  have  made  it  plain  all  along  that  you  are 
looking  for  a  quarrel.  I  Ve  no  objection.  Still, 
I  prefer  to  pick  my  own  adversaries." 

"Colonel  Haverill  is  my  commander,"  said 
West,  trembling  with  suppressed  excitement. 
"He  is  beloved  by  every  officer  in  the  regiment." 

"Well,  what  authority  does  that  give  you " 

"His  honor  is  our  honor.     His  wife " 

"Oho!  that 's  it,  eh?  So,  you  have  a  first-class 
license  to  act  as  Mrs.  HaveriU's  champion.  I 
have  heard  that  her  favorite  officer " 

Kerchival  approached  a  step  nearer. 


After  the  Ball  43 


"You  dare  to  suggest " 

"If  I  accept  your  challenge,"  sneered  the  other, 
"I  shall  do  so  not  because  you  are  her  protector, 
or  the  protector  of  her  husband's  honor,  but  as 
my  rival.  We  stand  on  even  ground." 

"Cur!  you  '11  listen  to  me  now,"  and  Kerchival 
emphasized  his  words  with  a  slash  of  his  riding- 
whip,  full  in  Thornton's  face. 

"I  think  you  are  entitled  to  my  attention,  sir," 
responded  the  other,  recovering  himself  quickly. 

"My  time  here  is  short,  as  you  know,"  Kerchival 
said. 

"Long  enough  for  my  purpose,  I  reckon.  The 
Bayou — up  the  Ashley  a  mile  or  so — is  a  con 
venient  place.  In  an  hour  from  now  it  will  be 
light  enough  to  sight  our  weapons." 

"I  '11  be  there  in  half  an  hour,  with  a  friend," 

cried  Kerchival. 

"What's  this?"  inquired  Bob  Ellingham,  at 
that  instant  bounding  up  the  steps  from  the  lawn. 

"Nothing  much,  Bob,  except  that  I've  got 
ahead  of  you  this  time.  It 's  my  chance,  and 
I  'm  going  to  do  the  settling  with  him.  It  won't 
take  long,  either." 


CHAPTER  IV 

SUMTER 

"But  hark!  that  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more, 
As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat; 
And  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before: 
Arm!  arm!  it  is — it  is — the  cannon's  opening  roar!" 

NOBODY  in  Charleston  slept  that  night  of 
April  H-I2.  At  the  Ellingham  house,  as 
at  the  Pinckney's,  and  at  many  another  home 
of  luxury  and  pride,  there  were  fesitive  or  other 
gatherings  which  kept  people  up  and  about  until 
long  past  midnight. 

Then,  in  the  early  hours  of  that  fateful  Friday, 
an  exchange  of  rocket  signals  between  Forts 
Johnston  and  Moultrie  began.  Every  one  knew 
what  that  meant.  The  men,  some  of  them 
without  stopping  to  change  their  evening  clothes, 
disappeared  with  strange,  silent,  ominous  alacrity. 
The  women  huddled  in  whispering  groups,  or 
brought  spy-glasses  and  from  various  outdoor 
points  of  vantage  watched  intently  across  the 
dark  waters  to  where  the  flagstaff  of  Sumter,  like 

44 


Sumter  45 

a  warning  finger,  pointed  solemnly  to  the  stars 
in  the  balmy  dusk  of  the  Southern  springtime  sky. 

The  abrupt  departure  of  Thornton  and  Lieu 
tenants  West  and  Ellingham,  accompanied,  as  it 
appeared,  by  Dr.  Ellingham  and  one  or  two  of 
the  young  men  in  uniform,  had  not  failed  to 
attract  attention  and  excite  comment.  Mrs. 
Haverill,  by  discreet  inquiry  among  the  household 
servants,  obtained  a  startling  hint  or  two  which 
she  hastened  to  communicate  in  confidence  to. 
Gertrude — none  else. 

"There  are  tears  in  your  eyes,  Gertrude!"  said 
Mrs.  Haverill  sympathetically. 

"They  have  no  right  there,"  returned  the  girl 
with  a  pitiful  flash  of  the  old  spirit,  that  contrasted 
with  the  scared  look  on  her  unwontedly  pale  face. 

"I  am  afraid  I  know — not  what  has  happened 
to  Lieutenant  West  in  these  last  few  minutes, 
but — forgive  a  woman  who  has  had  more  experi 
ence  than  you  have,  dear,  and  who  is  fond  of  you — 
what  happened  between  you  and  him  when  you 
were  together  for  the  last  time,  may  be,  in — who 
knows  how  long!  Let  Fate  part  you,  if  it  must, 
but  not  a  quarrel.  What  is  pride  or  coquetry, 
at  such  a  moment?  What  is  anything,  but  love? 
And  you  did  confess  that " 

"Not  to  him." 


46  Shenandoah 

"It  may  be  too  late." 

"Constance!     Do  you  think " 

"Another  rocket!"  cried  Madeline  West,  flitting 
from  somewhere  in  the  outer  darkness.  "Does 
any  one  know  where  Rob — I  mean  where  Lieu 
tenant  Ellingham  is?  He  told  me  that  General 
Beauregard's  ultimatum  for  the  evacuation  of 
Fort  Sumter  had  been  sent,  and  that  Major 
Anderson,  in  command  of  the  garrison  there,  had 
sent  back  word  that  he  would  stay  and  fight.  I 
knew  it !  The  attack  was  to  be  made  at  daybreak. 
Is  n't  it  growing  lighter  now?  It 's  after  four. 
Lieutenant  Ellingham  excused  himself  for  a  min 
ute,  and  he  has  been  gone  an  hour  and  a  half. 
He  promised  to  be  here  before " 

"So  did  Lieutenant  West,"  Mrs.  Haverill 
joined  in,  with  undisguised  anxiety. 

Boom!  came  a  loud,  sullen,  reverberating  re 
port,  from  over  the  bay. 

"Look!"  screamed  Gertrude  Ellingham,  jump 
ing  up  in  a  frenzy  of  excitement — "did  you  see 
that  line  of  fire  against  the  sky?  That  was  no 
rocket — that  was  a  shell — it  has  struck  the  fort!" 

At  the  same  instant  there  was  a  loud  clatter  of 
horse's  hoofs  outside,  and  Bob  Ellingham  dashed 
up  the  front  steps. 

"Ruffin  has  fired  the  shot!"  he  cried,  throwing 


Sumter  47 

his  cap  into  the  air.  "Hark!  there  goes  another 
one.  They  have  opened  fire  on  Sumter,  sure 
enough!" 

"Where  is  Mr.  West?  Mr.  Thornton?  the 
Doctor?"  demanded  the  three  women,  all  in  a 
breath. 

"They  are — Anderson  don't  reply — That's 
what  I  rode  back  ahead  to  tell  you —  It 's  all  right 
— the  second  shot  hit  Thornton,  and  Kerchival 
has  n't  a  scratch — he  '11  be  along,  with  the  Doctor, 
directly —  Ruffin  swore  he  would  fire  the  first " 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Robert,  what  are  you 
talking  about?"  pleaded  Gertrude,  seizing  him  by 
the  arm.  "Do  try  and  compose  yourself,  and 
tell  us  what  has  happened.  You  say  that " 

"Kerchival  and  Thornton  have  had  it  out,  I 
tell  you.  Beauregard  has  three  or  four  thousand 
men  under  arms,  and  it  's  a  chance  if  Anderson 
can  muster  a  hundred.  Well,  as  I  was  saying, 
they  met  in  the  gardens  down  at  the  Bayou.  Sam 
Pinckney  and  myself  loaded  the  weapons,  a  pair 
of  regulation  navy  sixes,  then  we  tossed  up  a 
silver  dollar  for  choice  of  position,  at  ten  paces, 
and  Thornton  won — but  that  made  no  difference, 
for  the  sun  was  n't  up  yet " 

"Mercy!  was  it  a  duel?"  Mrs.  Haverill  inter 
jected. 


48  Shenandoah 

"It  certainly  was,  madam.  Kerchival  scored 
at  the  second  fire — his  bullet  ploughed  through 
Thornton's  cheek,  branding  him,  but  nothing 
dangerous — the  Doctor  is  with  him,  and  old 
Kerchival  is  all  right,  and  coming  along  after  me 
any  minute.  Well,  that  trifling  affair  is  over, 
and  well  over.  Something  more  important  has 
started.  I  thought  you  'd  all  be  anxious  to  know 
that " 

"Madam,  I  have  to  beg  your  pardon  for  my 
unexpectedly  prolonged  absence,  and  to  report 
for  orders." 

This  last  was  the  voice  of  Kerchival,  who,  look 
ing  uncommonly  pale  and  animated,  addressed 
himself  to  Mrs.  Haverill. 

She  grasped  his  hand  without  speaking,  and 
drew  him  aside. 

"I  can  only  say,  God  bless  you,  Lieutenant 
West,"  she  said,  with  quivering  lips.  "Some 
happier  day  I  hope  to  thank  you  adequately,  and 
so  will  the  Colonel.  He  knows  even  less  than  I 
do,  at  the  present  moment.  But  he  knows  that 
Frank  has  taken  refuge  here,  and  he  will  not  see 
him,  nor  allow  me  to  do  so.  You  will  take  these 
to  the  poor  boy,  won't  you — this  letter,  and  this 
little  packet.  It  is  a  sacred  confidence — and  I 
ask  it,  as  I  know  you  receive  it,  freely." 


Sumter  49 

Kerchival  bowed  profoundly,  and  was  off  in  a 
second. 

Mrs.  HaveruTs  envoi  to  her  stepson  Frank 
had  cost  her  another  poignant  scene  with  the 
Colonel.  Before  the  ball  had  ended  and  the 
excitement  of  Sumter  fairly  begun,  husband  and 
wife  had  met  in  the  seclusion  of  the  lady's  apart 
ment. 

"My  Desdemona,"  he  had  said,  in  more  than 
half -serious  bantering,  "I  picked  up  Cassio's 
handkerchief  here,  and  I  have  returned  it  to  its 
owner.  That  is  all  very  well,  my  girl — but  what 
is  this  I  hear  about  your  having  had  a  fainting 
spell,  or  something,  earlier  in  the  evening?  You 
are  trembling  and  excited,  even  now." 

"My  husband!  There  is  something  I  have  to 
tell  you — something  very  near  to  your  heart. 
It  is  about  your  son " 

"About  Frank?    Again?" 

"He  is  here  in  Charleston." 

"He  ought  to  be  in  prison,  I  suppose.  But  to 
me  he  is  nowhere." 

"I  am  sending  word  to  him — I  may  see  him 
later.  Have  you  no  word  for  him?" 

"I  have  told  you,  he  and  his  unfortunate  wife 
are  provided  for.  Why  should  you  see  him?  I 
shall  not." 

4 


50  Shenandoah 

"At  least,  I  had  thought  to  convey  a  warmer 
message  than  that,  from  his  father." 

Here  the  Colonel  paused  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  made  his  peculiar  gesture  of  violently  brushing 
something  aside  from  before  his  face. 

"Frank  is  a  man  now,"  he  said  at  last.  "I 
could  n't  trust  myself  to  see  him — and,  anyway, 
he  must  now  stand  on  his  own  pins.  We  all  must, 
for  these  are  desperate  days,  and  rebellious  boys 
are  not  the  only  concern,  by  a  long  way.  But 
here" — the  Colonel  carefully  took  something  from 
his  breast  pocket — "I  will  send  him  a  keepsake  to 
make  a  man  of  him,  if  anything  can.  He  will 
understand.  I  know  he  loves  you  as  if  you  were 
his  own  mother.  Possibly  he  has  some  little 
tenderness  for  his  father,  also.  If  he  has,  I  think 
he  will  look  tenderly  upon  this  picture,  and — at 
the  same  time  remember  me." 

"A  miniature  portrait  of  me!"  gasped  Mrs. 
Haverill,  as  she  received  it  from  her  husband's 
hands. 

"Yes — the  one  you  gave  me  before  we  were 
married.  I  have  never  been  without  it  a  single 
hour,  since.  I  have  carried  it  through  every 
campaign,  and  in  many  a  scene  of  danger  on  the 
plains.  You  see  what  a  sentimental  old  ruffian 
I  am,  now,  don't  you?  Never  mind!  Frank  is 


Sumter  51 

a  fugitive  from  justice.  God  only  knows  what 
his  future  will  be.  I  am  sending  him  what  may 
give  him  courage  to  meet  his  fate  manfully,  if 
he  has  a  spark  of  manly  spirit  left  in  him.  I 
might  have  failed  myself,  without  it.  There! 
Give  him  the  miniature,  and  tell  him  that  I  send 
it." 

A  strange  feeling  of  excitement,  something  like 
exhilaration,  was  in  the  air  at  Charleston  that 
morning  of  April  twelfth — Henry  Clay's  birthday 
as  more  than  one  of  the  Ellingham  household 
had  remarked.  In  a  way,  that  cannon  signal 
roaring  against  Sumter  had  come  as  a  relief  to 
the  general  tension,  not  only  at  the  South  Carolina 
storm-centre,  but  everywhere,  North  and  South. 
It  was  the  decisive  beginning  of  what  all  now  knew 
to  be  inevitable  war.  The  voices  of  those  who 
still  struggled  hopelessly  for  peace  were  stifled, 
and  the  great  conflict  was  on. 

When  Colonel  Haverill  reflected  upon  the 
calamity  pending  over  the  country,  his  own 
personal  griefs  and  annoyances  sank  into  insignifi 
cance.  It  was  the  same  with  the  elderly  Southern 
ers,  and  the  personal  greetings  and  communings 
of  that  day  were  marked  by  great  courtesy  and 
kindness.  In  the  hearts  of  the  young  lovers, 
the  personal  anxiety  and  unrest  was  still  the  most 


52  Shenandoah 

burning,  though  they  all  felt  themselves  drawn 
irresistibly  into  the  larger,  diverging  currents. 
Robert  and  Madeline  rushed  excitedly  about 
watching  the  forts  with  spy-glasses  as  gray  dawn 
reddened  to  sunrise;  and  finally  they  had  the 
horses  saddled,  and  galloped  over  to  Pinckney's. 
Kerchival  West,  desperately  determined  to  fight 
down  the  awful  thought  that  he  and  Gertrude  were 
"enemies,"  had  dashed  recklessly  through  the  en 
counter  with  Thornton — and  now  even  that  had 
been  swept  into  the  background  by  the  eager  task 
of  finding  Frank  and  executing  the  commission 
of  confidence  put  upon  him  by  the  Colonel's  wife. 
Mrs.  Haverill  herself  kept  upon  the  very  crest  of 
the  wave,  upborne  by  the  nervous  vivacity  of  a 
petted  but  not  spoiled  woman  who  responded 
promptly  to  the  warm  and  loyal,  if  superficial, 
impulses  of  a  good  disposition. 

From  earliest  daybreak,  every  available  place 
on  the  harbor  side  was  thronged  by  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  old  and  young,  white  folk  and  black, 
viewing  the  spectacle  of  the  bombardment. 
Troops  came  pouring  into  Charleston,  but  were 
held  in  reserve,  the  forces  already  manning  the 
score  of  batteries  now  in  action  against  Sumter, 
being  more  than  ample.  Civilians  of  various 
descriptions  were  arriving  from  all  directions,  on 


Sergeant  Barket. — " The  young  lady  to  take  the  oath,  is  it? 

An'  she's  afther  saying  she'll  see  us  damned  first" 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 


Sumter  53 

horseback,  afoot,  and  in  every  species  of  anti 
quated  or  improvised  conveyance.  Far  out  sea 
ward  could  be  descried  the  vessels  sent  by  the 
Federal  Government  for  the  relief  of  the  be 
leaguered  fortress,  and  it  was  rumored  that  they 
would  still  make  an  attempt  to  throw  reinforce 
ments  into  the  place. 

Meanwhile,  Major  Anderson,  within  the  fort, 
had  withheld  his  fire  until  long  after  daylight, 
when  parapets  were  knocked  down,  and  breaches 
began  to  appear  in  the  masonry  of  the  walls  where 
the  thirteen-inch  shells  from  the  mortars  struck, 
while  smoke  and  flames  from  burning  sheds  told 
of  havoc  wrought  within.  The  calm  and  gallant 
commander  must  have  known  from  the  beginning 
that  he  could  not  hope  to  make  a  successful  defence 
with  his  provisions  almost  gone,  his  ammunition 
short,  and  his  entire  force  mustering  barely  one 
hundred  men,  counting  in  as  volunteers  the  work 
men  from  Baltimore  who  had  been  engaged  on 
repairs  and  building. 

Nevertheless,  if  General  Beauregard  or  any  one 
else  had  supposed  that  Major  Robert  Anderson 
would  haul  down  the  Stars  and  Stripes  from  Sum- 
ter's  battlements  without  resistance  against  the  as 
sault,  such  a  supposition  wronged  that  true  soldier 
and  wholly  failed  to  grasp  the  spirit  of  the  occasion. 


54  Shenandoah 

When  he  was  "good  and  ready,"  as  they  said, 
Anderson  opened  fire  with  three  barbette  guns, 
and  stirred  up  the  Confederate  batteries  on  Mount 
Pleasant  and  Cummings  Point,  like  a  hornet's 
nest.  Then  he  brought  into  action  the  two  tiers 
looking  towards  Fort  Moultrie,  with  such  effect 
that  several  of  the  latter's  big  guns  were  eventually 
silenced. 

The  firing  continued  all  day,  and  intermittently 
through  the  night.  Sumter  had  no  ammunition 
to  waste.  One  of  her  magazines  had  been  exploded 
by  the  Confederate  shells.  The  latter  were  per 
sistently  directed  in  an  attempt  to  carry  away  the 
colors,  but  all  day  these  defiantly  waved,  and  when 
the  morning  of  the  thirteenth  dawned  the  flag 
was  still  there.  At  last,  about  noon  of  that  second 
day,  a  successful  shot  was  aimed,  and  the  flag, 
which  had  been  hanging  by  a  single  halyard,  fell. 
One  of  the  enlisted  men  was  quick  to  raise  it 
again,  replacing  the  shattered  flagstaff  with  a  spar. 

In  that  brief  interval  Major  Anderson's  fire 
having  of  necessity  ceased,  the  Charlestonians 
concluded  that  the  fort  had  surrendered.  Senator 
Wigfall,  in  the  name  of  General  Beauregard,  put 
forth  in  a  boat,  and  went  to  offer  Anderson  the 
most  favorable  terms  of  capitulation: evacuation, 
with  permission  to  salute  the  flag,  and  the  garrison 


Sumter  55 

to  march  out  with  the  honors  of  war,  with  their 
arms  and  private  baggage.  Under  these  condi 
tions,  his  brave  defence  having  won  him  the  best 
possible  terms,  and  knowing  that  further  resistance 
would  mean  useless  sacrifice  of  life,  Major  Anderson 
without  humiliation  hoisted  the  white  flag  over 
Sumter,  and  entered  into  negotiations  for  the 
surrender  of  the  fortress. 

Then  came  the  dramatic  crisis  of  the  whole 
affair. 

The  articles  of  capitulation  had  been  drawn  up, 
it  appeared,  by  a  committee  of  South  Carolinian 
hotheads  who  had  insisted  upon  inserting  a  clause 
stipulating  that  the  commander  and  garrison  of 
Sumter  were  to  be  landed  at  Charleston  and 
transported  overland  to  Washington,  thus  exposing 
them  to  all  the  insults  and  ill-treatment  which 
must  have  been  directed  upon  them  in  such  a 
journey  through  the  Confederate  States  at  that 
time. 

When  he  came  to  this  clause,  Major  Anderson 
stopped  short,  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  said 
with  quiet  firmness: 

"No,  sir — never.  If  this  is  the  demand,  I 
propose  to  run  up  the  Stars  and  Stripes  again, 
and  resume  fighting.  Sir,  you  may  tell  General 
Beauregard  that  rather  than  submit  to  such  in- 


56  Shenandoah 

dignity,  I  will,  if  necessary,  blow  up  my  own 
magazines  and  bury  myself  and  my  men  under 
the  ruins  of  this  fortress." 

As  it  turned  out,  the  offensive  clause  in  no  wise 
represented  Beauregard's  views,  and  had  not  been 
authorized  by  him.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  in 
dignant  when  he  learned  of  it  through  the  reply  of 
Anderson  being  submitted  to  him.  The  outrageous 
stipulation  was  at  once  cancelled ;  and  negotiations 
were  resumed,  with  the  result  that  finally  Major 
Anderson  was  allowed  to  lower  his  colors  with  a 
salute,  and  take  his  little  garrison  out,  flags  flying 
and  every  man  carrying  his  arms  and  baggage, 
to  the  Federal  fleet  waiting  beyond  the  bar. 

"With  dishonor  to  none,"  said  Dr.  Ellingham 
fervently,  as  if  pronouncing  a  benediction. 

"But  with  awful  portent  for  us  all,"  rejoined 
Colonel  Haverill,  with  an  earnestness  as  deep  as 
that  of  the  Southerner.  "The  echo  of  that  first 
shot  may  be  heard  over  our  graves.  The  flag  is 
down  from  Sumter's  battered  walls — but  it  will 
be  raised  again,  and  it  still  will  float  — even  though, 
as  I  said,  over  our  graves." 


CHAPTER  V 

PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS 

"And  there  were  sudden  partings,  such  as  press 
The  life  from  out  young  hearts,  and  choking  sighs 
Which  ne'er  might  be  repeated:  who  could  guess 
If  ever  more  should  meet  those  mutual  eyes, 
Since  upon  night  so  sweet  such  awful  morn  could  rise!" 

PRESIDENT  LINCOLN  had  called  for  sev 
enty-five  thousand  troops  to  suppress  the 
rebellious  "combination"  of  the  Southland,  and 
to  "cause  the  laws  to  be  duly  executed."  The 
Northern  States  responded  instantly,  with  tre 
mendous  enthusiasm.  Arkansas,  Tennessee, 
Kentucky,  North  Carolina,  Virginia,  and  Missouri, 
held  back, — all  to  secede  from  the  Union  a  little 
later,  except  Kentucky  and  Missouri,  whose  sym 
pathies  were  divided, — and  joined  the  Confederate 
Government  formed  at  Montgomery,  Ala.,  under 
the  presidency  of  Jefferson  Davis.  Then,  finally, 
the  Ordinance  of  Secession  was  passed  by  the 
Virginia  Convention.  Colonel  Robert  E.  Lee 

resigned  his  command  in  the  United  States  Army, 

57 


58  Shenandoah 

to  head  the  Secessionist  forces  of  his  native 
Virginia;  and — grotesque  anti-climax,  but  omi 
nously  significant  of  the  condition  of  men's  minds 
there  and  then — Edmund  Ruffin  forthwith  quit 
Charleston,  returned  to  his  old  home  in  Amelia 
County,  Va.,  took  the  oath  of  allegiance  all  over 
again,  and  settled  down  "to  see  the  Confederacy 
triumph  in  the  assertion  of  her  inalienable  rights, 
sir!" 

"Lieutenant  West,"  said  Colonel  Haverill, 
handing  this  young  officer  a  stamped  paper,  with 
full  military  formality,  "I  have  secured  the  neces 
sary  passports  North — here  is  yours.  I  am  ordered 
direct  to  Washington,  and  shall  start  with  Mrs. 
Haverill  at  once.  You  will  report  to  Captain 
Lyon,  of  the  Second  Regiment,  in  St.  Louis." 

Kerchival  took  the  passport,  having  saluted, 
in  profound  silence. 

With  what  a  different  manner  of  paternal  ten 
derness  did  the  Colonel  lay  his  hand  on  the 
shoulder  of  Lieutenant  Robert  Ellingham,  as  if 
he  hated  to  speak  the  words  that  meant  a  long 
farewell. 

"Robert,  our  old  regiment  is  broken  up.  You, 
of  course,  will  also  resign.  This  is  a  moment 
when  every  man  must  decide  the  momentous 
question  for  himself,  and  upon  principle.  Shall 


Parting  of  the  Ways  59 

you  follow  the  example  of — of  nearly  all  your 
fellow  Southerners  in  the  service?" 

"You  know — or  rather,  I  can  never  tell  you, 
how  sorry  I  am  to  leave  your  command,  Colonel," 
answered  Bob,  with  downcast  eyes. 

"I  served  under  your  father  in  Mexico,"  the 
Colonel  went  on  feelingly.  "He  left  me,  at  his 
death,  the  guardian  of  you  and  your  sister  Gertrude. 
Even  since  you  became  of  age — even  now,  Robert, 
— I  have  felt  as  if  I  stood  in  his  place.  But  you 
must  be  your  sister's  only  guardian,  now.  Your 
father  fell  in  battle,  fighting  for  our  common 
country,  under  the  old  flag.  You  have  chosen 


"Colonel!  don't  you  believe  my  father  would 
have  done  as  I  shall  do,  if  he  had  lived?  He  was 
a  Virginian.  My  uncle,  the  Doctor,  tells  me  that 
he  has  more  than  once  heard  my  father  declare — 
what  Light  Horse  Harry  Lee  did  in  his  time — 
that '  no  consideration  on  earth,  however  gratifying, 
could  induce  him  to  act  a  part  which  might  be 
construed  into  a  disregard  or  forgetfulness  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  Virginia'." 

The  name  of  General  Winfield  Scott  leaped  to 
the  Colonel's  lips — but  he  smiled  it  down,  shook 
his  head  sorrowfully,  and  turned  away  in  silence. 

Bob  felt  less  restraint  in  going  over  the  same 


60  Shenandoah 

ground  again  when  the  time  of  leave-taking  came 
for  him  and  Kerchival. 

"Our  State  is  to  be  the  chief  battle  ground, 
according  to  present  predictions,"  he  said — with 
the  weight  of  fifty  years  suddenly  added  to  his 
stature  as  a  Virginian.  "But  every  loyal  son  of 
Virginia  will  follow  her  flag.  It  is  our  religion." 

"That  may  be  all  right  for  you,  Bob — I  am  not 
blaming  you,"  responded  Kerchival.  "But  my 
State  is  New  York.  If  New  York  had  gone  back 
on  the  old  flag — your  father's  and  mine — well, 
New  York  might  go  to  the  devil.  That's  my 
religion." 

"Well,  we  have  both  been  brought  up  in  our 
respective  ideas  of  patriotism.  And  who  shall  say 
that  either  of  us  is  wrong?" 

"We  are  staking  heavily  on  our  principles,  Bob," 
said  Kerchival,  with  a  touch  of  emotion  that  he 
was  ashamed  of,  though  he  need  n't  have  been. 
"Do  you  know  that  Gertrude — pardon  me,  your 
sister — but  of  course,  all  that  is  outside  of  the  real 
question.  Well,  here  's  the  point :  You  and  I  are 
officers  in  the  same  regiment  of  the  United  States 
Regular  Army.  We  were  classmates  at  West 
Point,  and  we  have  fought  side  by  side  on  the 
plains,  in  the  Indian  disturbances.  Why,  you 
saved  my  scalp,  once — you  know  you  did.  Only 


Parting  of  the  Ways  61 

for  you,  I  'd  be  wearing  a  wig,  at  this  moment. 
I  say,  old  fellow,  are  we  to  be  enemies  now?" 

"No!"  fairly  roared  Bob.  "I  hate  that  word, 
'enemies,'  between  gentlemen — and  especially  in 
thepresence  of  ladies.  Oh,  you  are  not  the  only 
one  who  has  got  to  choke  back  his  own  heart, 
in  this — this  sudden  parting  of  the  ways.  Dear 
old  comrade" — here  Bob  threw  his  arm  impul 
sively  over  Kerchival's  shoulder — "whatever  else 
comes,  our  friendship  remains  unbroken." 

"All  right,  Bob.  I  only  hope  we  never  meet  in 
battle,  that's  all!" 

"In  battle?    Horrible!" 

"Who  knows?" 

"The  old  man — I  mean  Colonel  Haverill — 
he  's  a  great  deal  more  desperate  than  we  are, 
and  maybe  he  has  reason  to  be  so.  Excuse  me, 
here  is  Madeline — Miss  West — your  sister " 

They  walked  out,  Robert  and  Madeline,  along 
the  Battery  wall  by  the  sea,  in  silence,  as  if  by 
mutual  rendezvous. 

"This  is  the  last  we  shall  be  together,  for  the 
present,  anyway — Miss  Madeline,"  poor  Bob 
began. 

"I  'm  afraid  so,"  murmured  Madeline. 

It  may  have  been  imagination,  but  she  seemed 
to  nestle  a  little  closer.  He  seized  one  of  her  hands 


62  Shenandoah 

and  held  it,  as  a  drowning  man  might  clutch  the 
proverbial  straw. 

"But  we  shall  meet  again — sometime,"  he 
went  on,  desperately,  "that  is  if  we  both  live." 

"If  we  both  live!"  repeated  Madeline,  in  an 
awe-stricken  tone.  "Oh,  Robert.  You  mean 
if  you  live,  I  suppose.  So,  you  are  going,  too, 
into  this  dreadful  war,  if  it  comes?" 

"Yes,  Madeline,  I  must.  It  is  Fate — yours  and 
mine  together — is  n't  it,  dearest  girl?  You  don't 
deny  it,  and  that  gives  me  courage.  You  know 
what  duty  means.  And  you  know  what  love 
means,  too — don't  you?  Madeline,  I  do  love 
you — I  shall  always  love  you,  come  what  may. 
There!  Fate  has  granted  me  this  much —  allowed 
me  to  tell  you  how  I  love  you — and  nothing  can 
take  this  moment  away  from  us,  at  least,  thank 
God!  And  I  have  the  strongest  kind  of  faith  in 
me,  now,  that  our  story  is  n't  going  to  be  cut  short 
here.  It  may  be  interrupted — we  Ve  got  to  be 
tried  by  fire,  maybe — but  I  can  stand  it,  if — 
You  will  think  of  me,  won't  you,  Madeline?" 

"I  shall  keep  watch  upon  Fate,"  she  said,  in  her 
low,  intense  voice. 

For  the  rest  of  their  time  together,  their  silences 
were  more  eloquent  than  their  words. 

As  for  Jenny  Buckthorn,  her  good-byes  were  so 


Parting  of  the  Ways  63 

many  bugle  calls.  With  her,  it  was  nothing  but 
"boots  and  saddles,"  and  "Heartsease  to  the 
front,"  from  the  moment  the  first  gun  had  been 
fired  upon  Sumter. 

"You  '11  get  used  to  this,  and  it  won't  seem  so 
hard, ' '  she  said  to  Gertrude  and  Madeline.  ' '  After 
you  've  once  smelt  gunpowder,  you  '11  be  as  keen 
for  it  as  I  am — and  you  know  how  we  veterans 
are  bored  and  demoralized  by  the  piping  times  of 
peace.  What 's  the  army  for,  anyway?  There  's 
the  flag  and  a  just  cause  to  fight  for — and  you 
can't  make  an  omelet  without  breaking  eggs,  you 
know.  War  is  war,  and  soldiers  have  got  to  win 
promotion,  to  be  worth  anything  as  sweethearts. 
Come,  cheer  up,  comrades.  Be  men — I  mean 
women." 

"I  suppose  the  Union  is  the  cause  we  must 
sacrifice  for,"  sighed  Madeline. 

"It  is  our  homes,  I  should  say — at  least,  brother 
Robert  says,"  declared  Gertrude,  " — that  is,  if 
they  invade  Virginia." 

"Yes,  that 's  a  military  necessity,  and  we  have 
to  leave  it  to  the  fortunes  of  war  to  decide  whether 
the  Union  forever,  or  the  old  home  under  a  new 
Secession  flag,  is  the  right  thing  to  rally  round. 
I  'm  risking  my  Heartsease  on  the  inseparable 
Union.  Oh,  we  three  are  not  the  only  women 


64  Shenandoah 

that  have  to  be  kissed  good-bye  and  see  our  lords 
love  and  ride  away,  as  the  poet  says.  But  let  me 
tell  you  for  a  fact,  girls, — going  off  soldiering  never 
makes  a  lover's  heart  grow  the  less  fond  of  the 
girl  he  's  left  behind  him." 

All  this  bluff  gayety  and  animal  spirits  did  not 
go  much  below  the  surface.  Still,  it  was  a  God 
send,  at  a  moment  so  heavy  with  portents  and 
sighs  and  sunderings,  when  it  seemed  to  each 
tender  young  heart  as  though  the  world's  motion 
had  suddenly  been  reversed  on  its  axis,  and  the 
mystery  of  the  powers  of  darkness  invoked  for 
the  express  purpose  of  turning  love's  romance  into 
a  diabolical  mockery  such  as  never  had  been 
dreamed  before. 

Lieutenant  Kerchival  West  passed  through  one 
more  dramatic  scene  before  quitting  Charles 
ton. 

In  an  obscure  tavern  by  the  water  front  he  found 
Frank  Haverill — a  sinister  young  desperado,  whose 
bold,  dissipated  look  had  something  strangely  at 
tractive  about  it,  and  whose  gentlemanly  speech 
and  manner  belied  a  certain  affectation  of  hardi 
hood  and  bravado. 

All  this  latter  was  swept  away  by  the  sudden 
violent  wave  of  emotion  that  visibly  rushed  over 
his  whole  being  when  West  delivered  Mrs.  Haver- 


Parting  of  the  Ways  65 

ill's  message,  and  handed  him  the  locket  containing 
the  portrait  miniature. 

With  an  oath  on  his  lips  and  tears  running 
down  his  hardened  face,  he  cried  out  hoarsely: 

"I  Ve  been  a  —  fool,  an  ungrateful  dog, 
and  I  've  deserved  jail  and  worse.  And  I  '11 
stand  the  gaff,  and  not  blame  any  one  but  myself, 
either.  But,  by  God,  I  'm  glad  now  that  you 
settled  with  that  Thornton  before  I  got  to  him. 
And  I  came  down  here  to  Charleston  to  seek  him 
as  a  friend!  Now,  listen,  Lieutenant  West — 
and  I  want  you  to  tell  this  to  my  father,  and  to 
my  dearest  mother,  for  she  is  that" — here  he 
kissed  the  miniature  fervently — "tell  them  that 
I  deserve  the  worst  that  can  happen  to  me,  but, 
that  I  did  n't  desert  my  wife.  Poor  girl,  she  only 
allowed  that  story  to  go  out  in  order  to  throw  them 
off  the  track  and  help  me  to  escape,  as  I  did. 
Now  she  will  know  that  the  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Haverill  know  the  truth,  and  that  will  comfort 
her  more  than  the  money  they  are  sending  her, 
God  bless  them!  And  it  would  comfort  me,  too, 
if  anything  could — but  nothing  can,  except  one 
thing — and  that  is  fight,  and  plenty  of  it.  I 
want  to  fight  my  way  back  to  self-respect,  to 
honor,  and  show  those  who  have  stuck  by  me, 
that  I  'm  worth  saving,  after  all.  No  matter 


66  Shenandoah 

what  happens,  thank  God  I  Ve  still  got  freedom 
to  fight!" 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  '11  enlist?"  asked  West. 

"Yes — yes,  Lieutenant.  I  can't  get  to  Washing 
ton  quick  enough." 

"In  the  Federal  army,  of  course?" 

"Surely — in  the  fight  for  the  Union." 

"Bully  for  you,  Frank!"  cried  the  officer,  im 
pulsively  grasping  the  boy's  hand.  "That  will 
be  splendid  news  for  the  Colonel." 

The  sombre  scowl  overspread  Frank  Haverill's 
face  again.  He  rose  to  his  feet  and  said  earnestly: 

"No,  Lieutenant  West.  I  charge  you  upon 
honor,  not  to  tell  my  father — not  to  tell  any  one — 
but  to  keep  this  a  secret  between  ourselves.  It 
will  be  time  enough  for  them  to  know,  when  I 
have  proven  myself  a  man  again.  Lieutenant, 
I  am  going  to  Washington  to  enlist.  But  that  is 
all  that  will  be  known  about  me  for  the  present, 
perhaps  forever.  Even  if  you  hear  of  me,  in  the 
days  to  come,  it  won't  be  under  the  name  of  Frank 
Haverill.  I  am  going  to  start  all  over  again, 
under  a  new  name  which  won't  have  a  spot  of 
dishonor  on  it,  and  Uncle  Sam  and  Father  Abraham 
Lincoln  will  have  a  brand  new  recruit,  born  to-day. 
Do  you  understand,  Lieutenant?  That  sweet 
lady,  heaven's  own  angel  mother  to  me,  has 


Parting  of  the  Ways  67 

stooped  down  and  grabbed  me  out  of  hell,  and 
she  shall  yet  have  reason  to  be  glad  that  she  did 
so,  or  my  father  will  never  set  eyes  on  his  son 
again." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  VIRGINIANS 

"For  here  yon  flag  first  meets  the  foe, 
Baptized  in  blood  of  patriots  true. 
Virginia's  heart  is  all  aglow, 
As  Boys  in  Gray  meet  Boys  in  Blue. 

THE  security  of  Washington,  the  capital,  was 
the  first  concern  of  the  Federal  Government. 
True,  it  was  expected  by  many  that  the  "Rebel 
lion"  would  be  crushed  in  ninety  days — some  said 
sixty — and  most  of  the  volunteer  troops  of  the 
North  were  enlisted  for  the  former  period.  In 
any  event,  it  was  necessary  to  proceed  with  due 
thoroughness  and  caution.  While  arsenals  were 
being  put  to  work  and  troops  drilled,  the  military 
authorities  set  about  organizing  armies  of  defence 
and  invasion,  and  mapping  out  a  plan  of  campaign 
the  objective  of  which  was  the  capture  of  Richmond, 
the  new  capital  of  the  Southern  Confederacy, 
whither  its  provisional  President,  Jefferson  Davis, 
repaired  from  Montgomery  before  the  end  of  May. 
A  sublime  spectacle,  even  before  it  could  be 

68 


The  Virginians  69 

viewed  through  the  perspective  of  time  and 
distance,  was  the  volcanic  upheaval  of  the  country 
to  meet  the  crisis  of  secession.  In  New  York, 
Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  the  Western  cities,  the 
crack  regiments  of  the  National  Guard  stood 
not  upon  the  order  of  their  going,  but  shouldered 
their  muskets  and  started  for  the  front,  borne 
southward  by  a  wave  of  popular  enthusiasm 
probably  unsurpassed  in  any  age. 

When  Colonel  Haverill  arrived  in  Washington, 
— which  at  that  period  had  not  yet  outgrown  its 
aspect  of  a  shiftless,  overgrown  Virginia  town — 
he  found  it  transformed  into  a  vast,  chaotic  mili 
tary  camp.  Every  incoming  train  from  Baltimore 
or  from  the  West  brought  its  regiment  of  raw 
recruits,  who  were  driven  like  cattle  to  the  bar 
racks  and  drill-grounds  on  the  Potomac  flats,  near 
the  end  of  the  Long  Bridge,  and  within  sight  of 
the  steeples  and  roofs  of  Alexandria,  where  on  a 
clear  day  the  rebel  flag  could  be  seen  from  the 
very  windows  of  the  White  House,  floating  de 
fiantly.  The  Capitol,  with  its  unfinished  dome, 
the  Patent  Office,  the  Treasury,  and  the  other 
public  buildings  of  the  Federal  seat  loomed  up 
in  marked  contrast  to  the  shabby  brick  and  frame 
houses  round  about.  The  wide  streets  were 
muddy,  dusty,  and  squalid,  with  ragged,  bare- 


7O  Shenandoah 

footed  negroes,  to  say  nothing  of  pigs  and  chickens, 
swarming  or  huddling  in  the  spring  sunshine. 
Even  Pennsylvania  Avenue  was  well  nigh  impas 
sable,  with  its  cavalcades  of  horses,  artillery 
caissons,  and  baggage  wagons,  while  the  sidewalks 
were  so  crowded  with  swaggering  officers  of  the 
ready-made  political  sort,  that  it  was  generally 
understood  that  privates  and  civilians  must  pick 
their  way  along  the  gutters.  Occasionally  a 
regiment  of  regulars,  with  music  blaring  and 
banners  flying,  would  sweep  past,  amidst  the 
about  equally  divided  admiration  of  the  "true 
blue,"  and  the  sullen  or  sneering  looks  of  the 
1 '  Secesh ' '  sympathizers. 

All  the  regular  officers  were  busy  at  the  arsenals 
or  the  transportation  headquarters,  or  the  War  Of 
fice,  or  at  the  drill-grounds  instructing  volunteers 
how  to  put  on  their  uniforms,  and  in  the  bewil 
dering  commands  of  "Attention!  Shoulder  arms! 
Prepare  to  open  ranks !  Rear,  open  order,  march ! 
Right  dress!  Front!  Order  arms!  Fix  bayo 
nets!  Stack  arms!  Unsling  knapsacks!  In  place, 
rest!'*  and  so  on,  ad  infinitum. 

Jenny  Buckthorn's  meeting  with  Lieutenant 
(Brevet  Captain)  Heartsease,  after  several  months' 
separation,  was  one  of  the  unrecorded  minor 
spectacles  of  the  period. 


The  Virginians  71 

It  was  at  Willard's  Hotel,  on  the  occasion  of 
one  of  those  constantly  recurring  evening  recep 
tions  to  some  gold-laced  individual  or  other  whose 
name  would  be  misspelled  in  the  newspapers  on 
the  morrow,  amongst  the  "distinguished  arrivals." 

If  Heartsease  looked  like  a  soldier,  as  he  entered 
the  hotel  parlor,  it  was  because  he  wore  a  uniform 
— as  neat  and  precise  as  was  consistent  with 
active  service — and  bore  himself  like  a  well- 
regulated  automaton.  He  had  long,  drooping, 
curled  moustaches,  and  a  monocle  in  his  left  eye, 
though  there  was  not  the  slightest  evidence  other 
wise  that  he  had  cheated  the  oculist  in  the  physical 
examination. 

"Ah,  Miss  Buckthorn,"  he  drawled. 

"Why,  Captain  Heartsease!" 

It  was  six  months  since  last  they  had  met. 
Standing  precisely  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  he 
said  quietly,  and  with  perfect  composure: 

"I  am  thunderstruck.  This  sudden  meeting 
with  you  has  thrown  me  into  a  fever  of  excitement. " 

"Has  it?  Great  ginger,  Heartsease!  if  you  get 
as  excited  as  this  in  battle,  what  a  terror  you  must 
be.  What  is  your  plan  of  campaign?" 

"We  shall  move  upon  the  Arlington  Heights 
across  the  Potomac,  as  soon  as  practicable,  I 
believe.  Meantime,  Miss  Buckthorn,  I  owe  you 


72  Shenandoah 

an  apology."  Here  he  carefully  drew  from  the 
breast  pocket  of  his  uniform  a  dainty  lace  hand 
kerchief,  which  appeared  to  have  been  enveloped 
in  a  larger  silk  one  for  better  preservation.  ' '  After 
I  left  your  side,  the  last  time  we  met, — it  was  at 
the  officers'  ball  at  Jefferson  Barracks,  if  you 
remember, — I  found  myself  in  possession  of  this 
precious  relic.  It  was  an  accident,  I  assure  you." 

"Oh,  an  accident,  was  it?  I  thought  possibly 
you  cared  to  keep  it  by  you.  Isn't  it  a  bother 
carrying  it  about?" 

"I  always  have  it  here — I  mean  here,"  he  an 
swered  confusedly,  touching  first  his  right  side, 
then  his  left.  "Next  my  heart." 

"Which  is  still  beating  madly  at  the  thought  of 
me?" 

"Precisely.     Shall  I  return  it  to  you?" 

"Oh,"  she  flung  back,  "if  a  lace  handkerchief 
can  be  of  any  use  to  you,  Captain,  during  the 
hardships  of  the  coming  campaign, — well,  you  may 
keep  it.  You  soldiers  have  so  few  comforts  in 
the  field — and  it 's  real  lace." 

"Thank  you,"  he  responded,  imperturbably, 
returning  the  handkerchief  to  his  pocket.  "Aw — 
Miss  Buckthorn,  your  papa  is  going  to  command 
an  army  corps." 

"Well,  he  has  my  consent." 


The  Virginians  73 

"He  doesn't  like  me." 

"I  know  it.   There  's  no  accounting  for  tastes." 

"But  you  are  in  command  of  him." 

"Surely.     What  then?" 

"It  occurred  tome  to  suggest,  Miss  Buckthorn, 
that  should  you  ever  decide  to  assume  command 
of  any  other  man,  don't  you  know, — I — I  trust 
you  will  give  me  your  orders,  yes?" 

"Heavens!  can  it  be  that  was  intended  for  a 
proposal?  If  so,  it 's  the  most  roundabout  flank 
movement  ever  made,"  Jenny  muttered,  half  to 
herself.  Then,  aloud,  to  Heartsease:  "I've  all 
I  can  do  to  command  myself,  at  the  present 
moment.  Attention!  'bout  face!  march!" 

She  turned  squarely  about,  and  marched  off, 
as  the  other  guests  were  closing  in  on  them. 
Heartsease  also  obeyed  the  order  mechanically 
and  whispered  to  the  nearest  shoulder-straps  of 
his  acquaintance: 

"I  have  been  placed  on  waiting  orders.  I  am 
in  an  agony  of  suspense.  The  presence  of  that 
girl  always  arouses  the  strongest  emotions  of  my 
nature." 

At  this  time,  while  Washington  was  getting 
ready  to  send  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  to  invade 
Virginia,  Robert  Ellingham  reported  to  General 
Lee  in  Richmond,  one  hundred  and  fifteen  miles 


74  Shenandoah 

to  the  southward,  and  found  the  new  Confederate 
capital  likewise  seething  with  activity. 

Lee  was  exercising  all  his  energy,  sagacity,  skill 
and  experience  in  the  tour  de  force  of  sending  an 
equipped  army  to  Johnston  and  Beauregard  in 
the  field,  at  the  threatened  points.  From  one  of 
these  threatened  points,  the  great  Valley  of 
Virginia  lying  between  the  Blue  Ridge  and  Shen 
andoah  Mountains,  he  had  called  Colonel  Thomas 
Jonathan  Jackson,  an  eccentric  Presbyterian 
professor  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute  at 
Lexington,  and  who  in  the  first  brief  month  since 
the  breaking  out  of  the  war  had  developed  aggres 
sive  qualities  calculated  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  authorities  at  Richmond.  • 

Lieutenant  Ellingham,  promoted  to  captain, 
naturally  gravitated  to  the  new  brigade  of  Jackson, 
who  was  now  elevated  to  the  rank  of  a  brigadier- 
general  of  volunteers.  The  regiments  of  his 
brigade  were  composed  of  the  very  flower  and 
pride  not  only  of  the  Valley  but  of  the  whole  com 
monwealth  of  Virginia;  and  even  before  Jackson's 
troops  took  the  field  they  had  already  begun  to 
receive  the  impress  of  the  iron  hand  of  their  leader. 

Their  first  destination  was  Manassas  Junction, 
the  point  of  union  of  the  railroad  coming  into 
Virginia  from  Washington  with  a  branch  road 


The  Virginians  75 

leading  into  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  General 
Lee  had  pointed  out  that  this  strategic  point 
would  in  all  probability  be  the  first  battlefield  in 
the  move  to  check  the  Federal  advance  towards 
Richmond;  and  he  now  concentrated  all  available 
forces  there,  where  an  army  in  position  would  be 
able  to  resist  the  further  progress  of  the  invading 
hosts,  and  could,  if  necessary,  reinforce  the  troops 
guarding  the  Valley. 

It  impressed  young  Ellingham  as  an  odd  coin 
cidence  that  the  command  at  Manassas  should 
be  given  to  General  Beauregard — none  other 
than  the  officer  who  had  "defended"  Charleston 
harbor  and  reduced  Fort  Sumter.  Beauregard 
was  not  a  Virginian,  but  he  was  a  West  Point 
graduate  who  had  served  with  distinction  in  the 
old  Engineer  Corps,  and  now  passed  for  the  South 
ern  military  hero  of  the  hour.  Another  strange 
hazard  of  the  fortunes  of  war  was  that  the  Federal 
army  set  in  motion  from  Arlington  Heights  on 
July  iyth,  for  the  purpose  of  crushing  Beauregard 
at  Manassas,  was  headed  by  a  West  Point  class 
mate  of  the  latter,  General  Irvin  McDowell. 

On  a  small  stream  called  Bull  Run,  some  thirty 
miles  southwest  of  Washington,  Beauregard 
awaited  the  arrival  of  McDowell.  The  banks  of 
this  stream  are  abrupt  and  densely  wooded;  but 


76  Shenandoah 

it  is  fordable  in  numerous  places,  and  at  that  time 
was  crossed  on  the  Centreville  and  Warrenton 
turnpike  road,  below  Sudley  Church,  by  a  stone 
bridge.  This  bridge,  on  the  blazing  day  of  July 
2 1st,  was  destined  to  become  a  storm  centre  of 
that  first  and  strangest  battle  of  the  war,  known 
to  Southern  chronicles  as  Manassas,  to  those  of 
the  Union  as  Bull  Run. 

General  Buckthorn,  like  Colonel  Haverill  and 
other  officers  of  the  Regular  Army,  advanced  from 
Arlington  with  feelings  far  other  than  those  of  the 
political  and  volunteer  officers,  who  regarded  the 
whole  affair  rather  as  a  summer  excursion  and 
frolic,  and  fully  expected  that  the  splendid  body 
of  troops,  mostly  "citizen  soldiers,"  that  had  been 
assembled  at  Washington,  would  be  able  to  march 
without  serious  opposition  straight  to  Richmond. 
This  conviction  was  apparent  in  the  personal 
equipment  of  the  men,  who  carried  (at  the  outset) 
every  conceivable  article  of  military  convenience 
and  luxury.  Their  rations  included  large  supplies 
of  preserved  meats,  liquors,  wines,  and  cordials. 
Oil-cloths  were  supposed  to  protect  the  troops 
from  the  damp,  while  havelocks  warded  off  the 
burning  rays  of  the  midsummer  sun. 

"Beauregard  and  Hampton,  and  Jackson  and 
Bee,  are  waiting  for  us  somewhere  along  the  route," 


The  Virginians  77 

observed  Colonel  Haverill,  "and  when  we  meet 
them  there  will  be  opposition  that  may  surprise 
some." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Southern  troops  were 
insufficiently  drilled,  and  their  supply  of  ammu 
nition  was  inadequate  for  active  operations.  Like 
the  Federal  authorities,  Lee  and  Johnston  had 
withstood  as  long  as  possible  the  public  clamor 
for  decisive  movements.  Nevertheless,  the 
character  of  the  Virginian  army,  as  typified  by 
the  brigade  of  Jackson,  was  such  that  mere 
technical  defects  were  sure  to  speedily  remedy 
themselves.  The  ardor  of  the  times  caused  "the 
cradle  and  the  grave"  to  be  depleted,  and  boys 
several  years  below  the  military  age  ran  away  from 
school  to  enlist.  Even  the  youngest  son  of  General 
Lee,  before  the  year  was  out,  obtained  his'  father's 
permission  to  quit  the  University  of  Virginia,  and 
as  a  common  private  join  the  Confederate  army, 
in  which  his  two  elder  brothers,  Custis  and 
"Rooney,"  both  West  Point  graduates,  as  well  as 
his  cousin  "Fitz"  Lee,  were  already  beginning  to 
distinguish  themselves.  The  spirit  and  tradition 
of  courageous  ancestors  were  bound  to  tell,  and 
these  boys  went  into  action  in  the  mood  of  a 
Gaston  de  Foix — ready  to  fight  and  die  with  a 
smile  on  their  beardless  lips. 


78  Shenandoah 

There  was  the  same  sort  of  stuff  in  the  Union 
ranks;  but  it  had  not  yet  crystallized — and,  as 
General  Buckthorn  grumbled  to  Colonel  Haverill 
just  before  the  opening  skirmish  at  Blackburn's 
Ford,  three  days  before  the  great  battle,  "All  raw 
volunteers  are  alike — the  best  little  better  than 
the  worst,  and  none  of  them  soldiers  until  baptized 
by  real  shot  and  shell." 

The  regulars  did  not  like  to  hear  the  political 
brigadier-generals  saying  it  was  a  pity  the  Southern 
fire-eaters  were  to  be  squelched  before  "we" 
could  punish  them  as  they  deserved;  nor  to  see 
whole  companies  of  militiamen,  who  had  already 
thrown  away  their  blankets  on  the  tedious  march, 
carrying  pieces  of  rope  tied  to  their  musket  barrels, 
symbolizing  the  avowed  purpose  to  "hang  Jeff 
Davis  to  a  sour-apple  tree." 

Still  less  did  the  seasoned  veterans  fancy  the 
spectacle  that  greeted  them  at  Centreville — where, 
amidst  the  stacked  arms  and  batteries  of  artillery 
that  lined  the  roads,  were  drawn  up  the  carriages 
of  civilians,  the  barouches  with  junketing  parties 
of  Congressmen  and  ladies,  who  had  actually 
driven  out  from  Washington  to  see  their  ready- 
made  "heroes"  thrash  the  "Rebs." 

This  was  the  first  and  the  last  time  that  such 
farcical  antics  were  played.  Even  now  their 


The  Virginians  79 

tragic  culmination  was  foreshadowed  in  the  proud, 
contemptuous  attitude  of  the  Virginian  people 
whose  homes  they  passed. 

"You'n  Yanks  are  right  peart  just  now,"  said 
a  farmer's  daughter,  with  whom  a  soldier,  having 
squandered  his  pies  and  sweetmeats  as  well  as  plain 
rations,  was  glad  to  dicker  for  a  piece  of  cold 
johnny-cake  en  route  to  the  front,  "but  you  'ns 
'11  come  back  soon  a  right  smart  quicker  than 
yer  'r  going,  I  reckon!" 

It  was  on  a  bright  sultry  Sunday  morning  of 
mid- July  that  the  two  armies  of  brothers — dis 
rupted  members  of  a  family-Republic  who  had  held 
together  for  three  generations — first  emerged  in 
serried  battle  lines  six  miles  long  from  the  myster 
ious  Virginia  forests  on  either  side  of  Bull  Run, 
and  rushed  forward  to  fight  breast  to  breast  for 
victory. 

The  Federal  plan  of  operations,  credited  to  the 
still  masterful  Lieutenant-General  Winfield  Scott, 
started  with  the  planting  of  an  entire  division 
of  fully  fifteen  thousand  men  in  the  rear  at  Cen- 
treville,  to  protect  the  communications.  Colonel 
Haverill's  regiment,  to  his  intense  chagrin,  was 
here  helplessly  detained.  Another  division,  in 
which  General  Buckthorn's  brigade  was  included, 
marched  ahead  to  make  the  opening  demonstra- 


8o  Shenandoah 

tions  at  the  Stone  Bridge,  while  two  others  crossed 
at  the  Sudley  and  other  fords,  to  concentrate  on 
the  southern  banks  of  the  stream  and  flank 
Beauregard's  left. 

This  seemed  an  admirably  clear  and  simple 
plan,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Before 
noon  it  was  an  obliterated  memory,  and  the  wide 
arid  plateau  over  which  the  battle  spread  like  a 
fire  in  the  brushwood  swarmed  with  confused 
masses  of  Northern  and  Southern  troops,  reeling 
to  and  fro,  alternately  taking  and  losing  and  re 
taking  the  same  positions  half  a  dozen  times  over, 
all  lines  undistinguishable  in  dense  and  lurid 
clouds  of  smoke,  through  which  artillery  guns  and 
caissons  dashed  madly,  while  the  thunder  of 
cannon  and  the  sustained  crash  of  musketry  re 
verberated  in  diabolical  concert  from  the  low- 
lying  hills  around,  and  near  and  far  arose,  mingled 
with  the  human-like  neighing  of  horses,  and  the 
hoarse  shouts,  yells,  cheers  and  commands,  the 
horrible  shrieks  and  groans  of  wounded  and 
dying. 

How  the  fight  was  going,  no  mortal  knew — least 
of  all  the  troops  most  desperately  engaged  in  it, — 
except  that  each  and  all  seemed  to  see  through 
the  mists  of  an  exalted  delirium,  the  bloody  phan 
tasm  of  victory. 


The  Virginians  81 

Even  in  the  minor  but  conspicuous  detail  of 
uniforms,  the  identities  of  the  combatants  were 
strangely  mixed.  The  Federal  blue  had  not  yet 
been  issued,  and  most  of  the  troops  wore  either 
the  uniforms  of  their  militia  organizations  or  those 
furnished  by  their  several  States — there  were 
firemen,  and  Zouaves,  and  even  one  regiment 
in  Highlander's  kilts.  The  Confederate  "gray" 
embraced  a  wide  variety  of  hues  and  textures; 
slouch  and  straw  hats,  or  none  at  all,  were  the 
general  rule,  and  some  regiments  were  in  citizens', 
or  farmers',  dress,  with  no  pretence  of  regulation. 
Most  confusing  of  all,  several  of  the  Southerners' 
important  general  officers  who  had  been  in  the 
old  service  still  wore  the  dress  of  the  United  States 
Army. 

Heartsease  and  Ellingham  had  their  first  meet 
ing,  only  they  did  n't  know  it.  Both  were  cavalry 
officers,  on  their  respective  sides.  But  in  neither 
army,  at  that  time,  was  the  effective  use  of  cavalry 
understood.  Instead  of  being  massed  for  quick 
concentrated  action,  it  was  distributed  around 
piecemeal  among  the  various  infantry  brigades, 
where  the  troopers  were  used  principally  for 
couriers.  This  was  mortifying,  but  it  kept  the 
young  officers  very  busy,  and  gave  them  special 
opportunities  for  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the 

6 


82  Shenandoah 

actions  in  progress,  and  for  observing  their  dis 
tinguished  commanders  at  close  quarters. 

Before  his  horse  was  killed  and  himself  knocked 
senseless  by  the  explosion  of  a  shell,  Heartsease 
saw  General  Buckthorn  fall  in  the  grand  charge 
that  drove  back  the  South  Carolina  legions  of 
Hampton  and  Bee.  He  also  became  aware  of 
another  brigade  near  the  enemy's  centre  that  did 
not  give  way,  but  stood  its  ground  stubbornly 
and  then  turned  aggressor.  It  flashed  over 
Heartsease's  mind  at  the  time  that  one  or  two  more 
commands  like  this  one  would  make  Beauregard 
hard  to  whip — not  knowing  that  this  was  the 
unique  First  Brigade  of  the  Army  of  the  Shen 
andoah  under  Jackson. 

Bob  Ellingham,  galloping  along  the  little  wooded 
crest  on  the  other  side  of  the  Stone  Bridge,  knew 
all  about  this  brigade.  He  saw  General  Bee 
check  and  rally  his  scattered  forces  by  pointing 
with  his  sword  and  shouting: 

"Look  at  Jackson,  there,  standing  like  a  stone 
wall!" 

Jackson  held  the  centre  for  what  seemed  an 
eternity,  yet  against  onslaught  after  onslaught 
which  to  all  the  other  officers  seemed  irresistible, 
until  finally  one  rode  up  and  said  to  him: 

"General,  I  think  the  day  is  going  against  us." 


The  Virginians  83 

"If  you  think  so,  sir,"  replied  Jackson,  curtly, 
"you  had  better  not  say  anything  about  it." 

It  was  the  first  time  the  young  Virginian  had 
seen  his  commander  with  his  "war  look"  on — 
a  grand  and  terrible  aspect,  soon  to  haunt  the 
Valley  like  a  spectre,  and  which  transformed  the 
shy,  taciturn,  awkward-gaited  tactical  instructor 
into  a  blazing  meteor  of  battle. 

Jackson's  brigade  on  the  artillery-swept  plateau 
of  Manassas  was  playing  the  part  of  the  Imperial 
Guard  of  Napoleon  at  Austerlitz,  but  without  the 
prestige  or  the  inspiration  of  apparent  success. 
At  a  late  hour  of  the  afternoon,  neither  side  knew 
whether  it  had  lost  or  won — in  point  of  fact,  one 
had  about  the  same  right  to  be  routed  as  the  other. 
Beauregard  was  tearing  about  the  field,  at  every 
portion  of  the  lines,  his  dark  Creole  face  burning 
with  animation  as  he  shouted  encouragement  to 
his  grimy  savage-looking  troops,  who  responded 
with  the  blood-curdling  "Rebel  yell"  of  the 
Southern  swamp-rangers.  Bee  and  Hampton 
were  hors  du  combat;  and  General  Bartow,  shot 
through  the  heart  while  rallying  the  7th  Georgia, 
fell  exclaiming:  "They've  killed  me,  but  don't 
give  up  the  field." 

General  Joe  Johnston — the  ranking  Confederate 
officer,  but  who  had  intrusted  the  immediate 


84  Shenandoah 

command  to  Beauregard  on  account  of  the  latter's 
familiarity  with  the  country — was  able  to  keep, 
from  his  headquarters,  something  like  a  general 
outlook  over  the  field,  and  received  intelligence 
just  as  a  final  attack  was  preparing  that  "a  Federal 
army"  had  come  up,  and  was  advancing  upon  his 
rear.  This  should  have  been  the  Union  reserves 
from  Centreville,  but  it  was  not.  It  was  General 
Kirby  Smith  of  the  Army  of  the  Shenandoah, 
arriving  with  1 700  fresh  infantry.  They  had  come 
from  the  Valley  by  the  Manassas  Gap  railroad, 
and,  hearing  the  heavy  firing,  General  Smith  had 
stopped  the  train  before  it  reached  the  Junction, 
disembarked  his  troops,  and  hastened  on  to  the 
battlefield  at  a  supremely  critical  moment.  The 
whole  Southern  line  now  advanced  to  the  charge, 
and  the  combined  attack  upon  the  Federal  flank 
and  front  was  decisive  enough  to  turn  the  tide  of 
battle  from  uncertainty  to  sudden  panic.  The 
lines  of  blue  wavered  and  broke,  fell  back  from  the 
plateau,  across  the  Warrenton  pike,  and  on  towards 
the  Bull  Run  fords.  The  repulse  became  a  rout, 
the  rout  grew  into  an  appalling  avalanche  of  defeat. 
The  Federal  advance,  on  the  southern  side  of 
Bull  Run,  had  seen  a  regiment  moving  towards 
them,  but  they  were  told  it  was  a  New  York  regi 
ment  which  had  been  expected  for  support,  and 


Sergeant  Barket. — "  I  've  often  seen  Captain  Heartsease  take  a 
sly  look  at  a^little  lace  handkerchief  just  before 
he  wint  into  a  battle." 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogdcn. . 


The  Virginians  85 

the  artillerymen  withheld  their  fire.  Suddenly 
there  came  a  fearful  explosion  of  musketry,  which 
in  an  instant  changed  the  scene  into  one  of  hide 
ous  carnage.  Death-stricken  men  with  dripping 
wounds  were  clinging  to  caissons,  which  frantic 
horses  dragged  pell-mell  through  the  infantry 
ranks  and  over  the  prostrate  bodies  of  the  fallen. 
A  caisson  blew  up,  and  three  horses  galloped  off 
with  the  burning  wreck,  dragging  a  fourth  horse, 
which  was  dead.  Cannoniers  lay  limp  across 
their  guns,  with  rammers  and  sponges  and  lanyards 
still  in  their  hands.  Whole  batteries  were  anni 
hilated  in  a  moment,  and  organization  command 
was  wiped  out.  Those  who  could  run,  walk,  limp, 
or  even  crawl,  waited  no  longer,  but  dropped 
everything  and  got  away  from  there.  It  was 
scarcely  fiction  when  some  of  them  declared  after 
wards  that  they  never  stopped  running  until 
halted  by  a  sentinel  with  a  musket  at  the  Washing 
ton  end  of  Long  Bridge. 

The  main  body  of  the  army  was  halted  sooner 
than  that,  in  the  indescribable  stampede  and 
blockade  at  Centreville,  where  Colonel  Haverill 
and  his  fellow  officers  had  to  withstand  the  oft- 
reiterated,  maddening  question,  "Why  weren't 
these  reserves  brought  up  to  help  us?" 

The  baggage  wagons,  which  the  incompetent 


86  Shenandoah 

politician  officers  had  allowed  to  come  far  up  front, 
instead  of  being  parked  in  the  rear,  were  now 
jumbled  in  a  hopeless  barricade.  At  Cub  Run, 
between  the  Stone  Bridge  and  Centreville,  the 
irresponsible  teamsters  got  jammed  together  in 
their  desperate  hurry  to  cross,  and  a  Confederate 
battery  began  dropping  shell  in  among  them. 
Wagons  were  demolished,  and  another  barricade 
piled  up.  The  drivers  on  the  south  side  of  the 
stream,  finding  they  could  not  get  across  with  their 
impedimenta,  cut  their  traces,  mounted  their 
horses,  and  scampered  away.  Then  the  teamsters 
on  the  safe  side  began  to  cut  their  traces,  too. 
The  narrow  road,  for  miles,  was  filled  with  flying 
troops,  runaway  horses,  baggage  wagons,  wrecks, 
and  ambulances  packed  with  officers,  not  all  of 
them  wounded.  The  sight  of  this  panic  and  dis 
order  completed  the  demoralization  of  the  reserves 
and  they  too  were  swept  on  with  the  current 
rushing  irresistibly  Washington-ward.  The  houses 
along  the  route  were  filled  with  wounded  men. 
The  residents,  some  sympathetic  and  others  ironi 
cal,  said:  "You  had  better  hurry  on,  or  the 
cavalry  will  cut  off  your  retreat." 

This  was  no  idle  menace.  On  a  hill  at  Manas- 
sas,  after  the  final  victorious  charge,  General 
Jackson  had  come  nearer  to  the  actual  truth  of 


The  Virginians  87 

possibility  than  he  or  any  other  Confederate  then 
knew,  when  he  cried  out  exultantly: 

"Give  me  ten  thousand  men,  and  I  will  be  in 
Washington  to-night!" 

The  dawn  of  Monday  came,  but  the  sun  did  not 
shine.  In  the  hot,  sullen,  drizzling  morning, 
the  defeated  troops  poured  into  Washington  over 
the  Long  Bridge.  Could  anybody  recognize 
these  gaunt,  grimy  fugitives,  some  of  them  with 
bandaged  and  bleeding  wounds,  footsore,  bare 
footed,  or  carrying  shoes  they  could  not  put  on 
their  swollen  feet,  their  soiled  and  torn  clothes 
saturated  with  the  clay-dust  that  had  filled  the 
air  before  the  rain  came, — as  the  proud  army  that 
had  gone  forth  with  boasts  and  banners  less  than 
a  week  ago? 

Shamefaced  and  pathetic  they  looked,  as  they 
dragged  aimlessly  along  Pennsylvania  Avenue, 
or  stood  at  basement  entrances,  not  loath  to  ask 
for  a  cup  of  coffee  or  a  morsel  of  food.  Some 
came  along  in  disorderly  mobs,  some  as  squads, 
stragglers,  companies.  Occasionally  a  regiment 
in  perfect  order — Colonel  HaverilTs  was  one  of 
these — marched  in  silence,  with  lowering  faces, 
stern,  weary,  and  frayed,  but  every  man  carrying 
his  musket,  and  stepping  alive. 

Some  good  citizens — but  they  were  not  in  the 


88  Shenandoah 

majority — put  out  steaming  wash  kettles  filled 
with  coffee  or  soup,  for  the  forlorn  boys.  Among 
these  good  Samaritans  was  Jenny  Buckthorn, 
surrounded  by  a  staff  of  colored  servants.  Her 
father,  severely  wounded,  and  captured  by  the 
enemy,  had  been  recognized  by  his  former  comrade 
General  Beauregard,  and  as  a  personal  courtesy 
had  been  exchanged  for  a  wounded  Confederate 
officer,  and  allowed  to  proceed  to  Washington,  in 
an  ambulance,  tended  by  Colonel  Haverill. 

"Where  is  Heartsease?"  was  the  first  question 
Jenny  asked  her  father,  after  having  ascertained 
that  that  stern  parent  was  not  dead. 

"Don't  ask  me,"  muttered  the  old  warrior. 
"This  is  no  time  for  picnics  and  dancing  parties." 

Jenny  was  not  herself,  as  she  kept  the  kettles 
replenished  and  ministered  to  the  waifs  and  strays, 
many  of  whom  lay  down  on  door-steps  or  in  vacant 
lots,  still  clutching  their  muskets,  and  slept  like 
infants  in  the  cheerless  drizzling  rain. 

One  especially  miserable-looking  object  drifted 
along,  about  noon,  and  stood  as  if  dazed  at  the 
sight  of  food  and  drink  and  commiseration.  His 
uniform  might  have  been  blue,  or  it  might  have 
been  gray — mud  and  smudge  were  the  prevailing 
hues.  His  shoes  were  heavy  brogans  tied  with 
twine,  and  his  naked  and  sore  ankles  showed  that 


The  Virginians  89 

he  was  without  socks.  An  old  slouch  hat  was 
pulled  over  his  face,  and  a  tobacco-bag  hung  from 
a  button  of  his  jacket,  the  collar  of  which  was 
turned  up  to  the  chin,  evidently  to  conceal  the 
condition  of  the  shirt — or  the  lack  of  one. 

"You  poor  fellow!"  said  Jenny.  "Tell  me, 
were  you  in  the  cavalry?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Buckthorn.  Is  it  possible  you  do 
not  recognize  me?  I  must  apologize  for  my  ap 
pearance,  but " 

"Great  heavens!  is  it  yourself,  Heartsease?" 
exclaimed  the  girl  with  a  little  shriek.  "Why, 
you  look  like  a  bummer." 

"Possibly  this  may  serve  to  identify  me,"  and 
he  drew  from  the  mysterious  inner  recesses  a 
stained  packet,  which  proved  to  be  a  large  silk 
handkerchief  enveloping  a  dainty  lace  one. 

Heartsease  received  his  captain's  commission 
at  the  dinner-table  that  same  evening.  After  all, 
as  the  old  General  said,  he  was  a  regular,  and  had 
fought  before  he  ran,  and  that  was  a  contrast 
to  many  of  the  pestiferous  ready-made  shoulder- 
straps  who  had  betrayed  our  brave  volunteers 
and  lost  the  fight  for  them,  and  who  were  even 
now  standing  about  unabashed,  bragging  in  the 
bar-rooms. 

Something  worse  than  bragging  was  going  on 


90  Shenandoah 

in  Washington,  in  that  hour  of  bitter  humiliation. 
Influential  citizens,  government  officials,  and 
even  army  officers,  for  twenty-four  hours  after 
Bull  Run,  openly  expressed  themselves  in  favor  of 
compromising  with  the  Secession.  They  were  das 
tardly  enough  to  declare  that  President  Lincoln 
would  have  to  abdicate — and  not  a  voice  was 
raised  against  this  craven  judgment. 


CHAPTER  VII 

( 

WAR  IS — WAR 

"  Far  heard  above  the  angry  guns, 
A  cry  across  the  tumult  runs, 

The  voice  that  rang  through  Shiloh's  woods 
And  Chickamauga's  solitudes — 
The  fierce  South  cheering  on  her  sons." 

jy'ERCHIVAL  WEST,  shortly  after  his  arrival 
1^  at  St.  Louis,  was  assigned  to  the  army  of 
Southwestern  Missouri,  where  in  a  short  time  he 
saw  hard  service  in  almost  every  line,  except  that 
of  actual  fighting.  A  large  addition  had  been 
made  to  the  Regular  Army,  and  to  fill  vacancies 
in  the  new  regiments,  rapid  promotions  among 
the  officers  already  in  service  had  occurred.  In 
a  few  months'  time,  West  rose  from  second  lieu 
tenant  to  the  rank  of  captain  of  infantry — an 
advancement  which  a  year  before  could  only  have 
been  gained  as  a  reward  of  perhaps  fifteen  years 
of  continuous  service. 

The  young  officer  needed  all  the  distraction  of 
this  ferment  season  of  work  and  promotion.     He 

91 


92  Shenandoah 

still  found  time  to  write  copiously  to  his  sister 
Madeline,  at  home  in  Boston.  Madeline  wrote 
regularly  to  Gertrude  Ellingham,  who,  in  prefer 
ence  to  Belle  Bosquet,  the  home  of  the  Ellinghams 
near  Winchester  in  the  Valley,  had  proceeded  to 
Richmond  to  help  on  "the  cause,"  particularly  in  so 
far  as  her  brother  Robert  and  their  immediate  cir 
cle  of  enlisted  men  acquaintances  were  concerned. 
Among  these  latter  was  their  uncle,  Dr.  Ellingham, 
who  came  on  after  the  battle  of  Bull  Run — Manas- 
sas,  the  Southerners  called  it,  then  and  afterwards 
— and,  when  another  draft  was  made  upon  the 
cradle  and  the  grave,  became  an  adjutant  major 
in  the  Confederate  Army  of  Northern  Virginia. 

Gertrude  also  kept  up  a  correspondence  with 
Mrs.  Haverill,  the  Colonel's  wife,  in  Washington. 
This  correspondence,  under  the  circumstances, 
was  naturally  somewhat  strained — yet,  at  least, 
it  was  feminine,  and  intensely  human.  It  served 
to  keep  the  inner  lines  of  communication  open 
regarding  important  matters  mixed  up  in  war's 
great  chaos;  also  regarding  other  matters  still 
more  important,  though  of  a  limited  and  strictly 
personal  interest,  to  four  individuals  in  particular. 

One  item  of  news  which  gained  currency  in  this 
roundabout  way  had  reference  to  an  old  acquaint 
ance,  and  was  destined  to  bear  directly  upon 


War  Is — War  93 

certain  events  in  the  immediate  future,  as  it  had 
already  played  its  part  in  the  fateful  battle  of 
July  2 1  st. 

For  many  months  past,  and  especially  since  the 
opening  of  hostilities,  Washington  had  swarmed 
with  Confederate  spies  and  "copper-head"  in 
formers,  not  a  few  of  whom  went  about  disguised 
in  Federal  uniforms.  Through  one  of  these 
agencies,  a  fortnight  before  the  battle,  General 
Beauregard  had  come  into  possession  of  documents 
compiled  by  a  clerk  in  the  adjutant-general's 
office  of  General  McDowell,  which  enabled  the 
Richmond  authorities  to  make  an  accurate  esti 
mate  of  the  army  that  commander  proposed  to 
hurl  into  Virginia,  and  to  prepare  accordingly. 
The  spy  credited  with  this  exploit  was  rewarded 
with  a  captain's  commission  in  the  Confederate 
Secret  Service.  His  name  was  Edward  Thornton. 

Colonel  Haverill,  in  his  routine  executive  capa 
city  as  an  officer  of  the  old  service  and  stationed  at 
Washington,  was  brought  into  close  and  sometimes 
personal  relations  with  the  President.  He  had 
the  mighty  example  of  Abraham  Lincoln  before 
him,  in  that  hour  of  demoralization  and  stupor 
following  the  Bull  Run  reverse,  and  it  helped  him, 
as  it  did  thousands  of  other  patriots  in  that 
immediate  circle  at  the  national  capital,  to  set 


94  Shenandoah 

» 

sternly  about  the  task  of  reorganizing  their  forces, 
of  placing  themselves  in  line  for  surer  and  more 
thorough  work  in  the  future. 

This  was  one  of  three  or  four  crises  decreed  in 
the  destinies  of  the  Republic  during  the  fluctuations 
of  four  years,  when  to  the  eyes  of  men  like  Colonel 
Haverill — and  to  all  human  eyes,  save  those  en 
dowed  with  some  divine  gift  of  prophecy  and  faith 
— it  appeared  that  the  Union  was  as  likely  to 
perish  as  to  live. 

"If  Lincoln  goes  into  history,"  our  New  England 
soldier  wrote  home  at  this  period,  "it  will  be  enough 
to  crown  him  to  all  future  time  that  he  rose  again 
after  this  day  of  crucifixion,  determined  not  to 
be  overwhelmed  with  this  surging  sea  of  trouble, 
but  to  lift  himself  and  us  and  the  Union  out  of  it." 

Neither  the  tragic  nor  the  heroic  stamp,  however, 
was  impressed  upon  the  outward  man,  Abraham 
Lincoln.  They  often  saw  him  "coming  in  to 
business"  in  the  morning — that  is  to  say,  riding 
in  with  a  cavalry  escort  from  the  Soldiers'  Home 
in  the  northern  suburbs  of  Washington,  where  he 
habitually  slept  during  the  hot,  breathless  nights 
of  the  midsummer  season.  There  were  no  military 
pomp  and  circumstance  about  this  cavalcade. 
Mr.  Lincoln,  on  an  ambling  gray  horse  amidst 
the  troopers  with  drawn  sabres,  dressed  in  black 


War  Is — War  95 

clothes  that  looked  rusty  and  dusty,  wearing  his 
familiar  black  "stovepipe"  hat,  looked  rather  the 
common  citizen,  except  that  his  brown,  deep- 
lined  face,  with  its  cavernous  eyes,  had  a  look  of 
latent  sadness  and  weariness. 

This  look  vanished,  and  the  comic  mask  took 
its  place,  with  the  dark  eyes  twinkling  mischiev 
ously,  when  he  would  turn  irksome  conversation 
by  one  of  his  quaint,  unexpected  retorts,  or  by 
telling  one  of  those  characteristic  stories  which, 
when  he  could  not  give  a  point-blank  answer  or 
comment,  furnished  the  best  kind  of  unanswerable 
response. 

One  day  when  the  gloom  hung  thickest,  the 
spokesman  of  an  important  delegation  that  could 
not  be  gainsaid  asked  the  President  bluntly  if  his 
confidence  in  the  permanency  of  the  Union  was 
not  beginning  to  be  shaken. 

Mr.  Lincoln  closed  his  tired  eyes,  threw  back  his 
shaggy  head  a  moment,  and  then  said: 

"When  I  was  a  young  man  in  Illinois,  I  used  to 
board  with  a  deacon  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 
One  night  I  was  aroused  from  sleep  by  a  rap  at 
my  door,  and  I  heard  the  deacon's  voice  calling, 
'Arise,  Abraham!  the  day  of  Judgment  has 
come!'  I  sprang  from  my  bed  and  rushed  to  the 
window,  and  saw  a  shower  of  meteors  falling. 


96  Shenandoah 

But,  looking  back  of  these,  and  higher  up  in  the 
heavens,  I  saw  the  grand  old  constellations,  which 
had  been  there  ever  since  I  could  remember, 
fixed  and  true  in  their  places.  Gentlemen,  the 
world  did  not  come  to  an  end  then,  nor  will  the 
Union  now." 

As  weeks  and  months  passed  on,  it  was  possible 
to  find  a  certain  encouragement  in  the  fact  that 
the  defeat  of  McDowell's  army,  while  not  utilized 
by  the  Confederates  to  its  full  military  effect, 
nevertheless  flattered  them  into  a  feeling  of 
strength  and  security,  resulting  in  comparative 
inactivity  in  the  field  for  the  better  part  of  a  year. 
At  the  North,  the  effect  produced  was  exactly 
the  contrary.  While  the  South  was  planning  the 
organization  of  a  new  republic,  and  even  putting 
up  the  name  of  General  Beauregard  as  a  candidate 
for  the  presidential  succession  in  such  a  way  as 
to  incur  for  that  officer  the  cordial  distrust  of 
Jefferson  Davis  forever  afterwards,  the  Federal 
Government  and  the  people  of  the  Northern  and 
Western  States  set  to  work  with  furious  energy 
to  counteract  the  reverses  suffered  in  the  begin 
ning.  Congress  authorized  the  enlistment  of  half 
a  million  of  men  for  three  years,  an  increase  of 
the  navy,  and  stupendous  loans  with  which  to 
strengthen  the  sinews  of  war. 


War  Is — War  97 

Lieutenant-General  Scott,  now  past  seventy 
years  of  age,  hung  up  his  laurelled  sword,  and 
yielded  the  command  of  the  Federal  armies  to  a 
younger  and  more  active  officer,  General  George 
B.  McClellan. 

In  command  of  the  Federal  forces  in  Western 
Virginia  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  General 
McClellan  had  figured  in  the  first  successes  over 
Confederate  arms  at  Rich  Mountain  and  Carrick's 
Ford,  signalized  in  government  bulletins  as  "two 
victories  in  one  day,"  and  winning  for  the  new 
commander  the  beginnings  of  a  "Young  Napoleon" 
prestige.  The  high  abilities  which  had  led  to 
his  sudden  promotion  included  a  precise  military 
bearing  combined  with  an  affable  courtesy  of 
personal  approach,  and  he  became  immediately 
popular  with  the  troops.  Under  McClellan 's 
directing  hand,  the  disorganized  army  again  took 
shape  and  morale,  reformed  its  broken  ranks,  and 
once  more  presented  a  formidable,  menacing  front 
to  the  defiant  Secession. 

General  Lee,  who  had  taken  the  field  against 
the  Federal  forces  of  Rosecrans  and  Reynolds  in 
Western  Virginia,  returned  to  Richmond  in  the  fall 
with  military  reputation  certainly  not  augmented, 
if  not  diminished,  and  resumed  his  duties  as  ad 
viser  to  the  Chief  Executive  of  the  Confederacy. 


98  Shenandoah 

The  ignis  fatuus  of  European  intervention  had 
begun  to  lead  the  Southern  people  astray,  and 
they  plunged  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  slough, 
while  the  roused  North  was  gathering  by  land  and 
sea  the  overpowering  forces  for  their  subduing. 

With  two  Federal  armies  ready  to  move  into 
Virginia — that  of  McClellan  at  Washington,  and 
that  under  General  Banks  opposite  Leesburg, — 
to  say  nothing  of  considerable  bodies  of  troops 
harassing  the  northern  counties  about  the  head 
waters  of  the  Potomac,  the  Confederate  prospects 
for  the  spring  of  1862  were  decidedly  threatening. 
To  protect  this  portion  of  the  State,  and  to  guard 
the  lower  Shenandoah  Valley  against  General 
Banks,  the  Confederate  Government  determined 
to  send  a  force  to  Winchester.  This  force,  organ 
ized  under  the  official  title  of  the  "Army  of  the 
Monongahela,"  was  placed  under  the  command 
of  "Stonewall"  Jackson,  now  advanced  to  the 
rank  of  major-general. 

This  was  great  news  to  the  Ellinghams,  not  only 
for  the  naive  reason  that  it  seemed  to  them  like 
throwing  an  impregnable  guard  around  Belle 
Bosquet  and  the  whole  Valley,  but  also  and  es 
pecially  because  of  Captain  Robert  Ellingham's 
part  in  the  growing  prestige  of  the  Stonewall 
Brigade. 


War  Is — War  99 

Jackson  was  still  in  the  woods  near  Centreville, 
where  he  had  remained  after  the  battle  of  Bull 
Run;  and  as  autumn  reddened  around  he  was 
probably  quite  as  restive  as  his  troops  for  the  long 
awaited  word  to  advance.  When  this  word  came, 
in  the  form  of  a  summons  to  promotion,  there  was 
a  sort  of  farewell  love-feast  at  the  parting  of  "Old 
Jack"  from  his  pet  brigade;  and  Bob  described  it 
in  a  letter  to  his  sister  as  follows : 

"I  tell  you,  dear  sister,  it  was  already  some  time 
since  we  had  ceased  to  poke  fun  at  Old  Jack,  in 
his  faded  gray  coat  and  mangy  cap,  as  he  rode 
jerkily  by  on  his  sorrel  horse.  The  signal  was 
always  passed  when  he  was  coming,  and  he  got 
cheers  all  along  the  line  as  he  galloped  past  at  full 
speed,  as  though  he  did  n't  like  it.  Whenever 
there  was  distant  cheering  or  any  disturbance  in 
the  ranks,  the  fellows  would  say,  'That 's  Jackson, 
or  else  a  rabbit ! '  It  seems  absurd  to  think  of  any 
other  officer  than  himself  leading  us  now.  Never 
theless,  the  day  came — it  was  October  4th — when 
the  regiments  were  drawn  up  in  close  column, 
and  Stonewall  appeared  before  us  as  if  about  to 
give  the  order  for  a  charge.  Worse  than  that — 
he  was  going  to  make  a  speech  : 

'I  first  met  you,  boys,  at  Harper's  Ferry,' 
says  he,  '  and  I  trust  wherever  I  shall  hear  of  the 


ioo  Shenandoah 

First  Brigade  on  the  field  of  battle,  it  will  be  of 
still  nobler  deeds  achieved,  and  higher  reputation 
won.  In  the  Army  of  the  Shenandoah  you  were 
the  First  Brigade.  In  the  second  corps  of  this 
army  you  are  the  First  Brigade.  You  are  the 
First  Brigade  in  the  affections  of  your  General; 
and  I  hope,  by  your  future  deeds  and  bearing, 
you  will  be  handed  down  to  posterity  as  the  First 
Brigade  in  this  our  second  War  of  Independence. 
Farewell!' 

"There  was  a  cheer  that  brought  a  flush  to 
Old  Jack's  bearded  cheeks — but  just  what  he 
has  locked  up  in  that  iron-bound  head  of  his, 
none  of  us  can  in  the  least  make  out." 

They  found  out,  long  before  the  next  spring 
came  round. 

He  may,  or  he  may  not,  have  planned  to  invade 
the  North  by  way  of  Harrisburg  and  Philadelphia, 
with  the  purpose  of  forcing  a  treaty  of  peace  and 
securing  the  establishment  of  Southern  independ 
ence.  What  he  did,  began  nearer  home,  and  be 
fore  the  year  was  out,  as  a  result  of  the  Richmond 
authorities'  decision  to  fight  a  defensive  rather 
than  an  aggressive  war.  It  ended  in  six  months' 
time  in  virtually  saving  the  Confederate  capital, 
by  diverting  McDowell's  army,  on  its  way  to  join 
McClellan  as  he  approached  Richmond  by  way 


War  Is — War  101 

of  the  Peninsula,  back  to  the  protection  of  Wash 
ington;  and  in  the  fighting  of  a  second  battle  of 
Bull  Run. 

By  the  way,  in  the  latter  days  of  November, 
General  Jackson  succeeded,  to  his  great  joy  and 
theirs,  in  getting  his  old  brigade  back  again. 
With  this,  and  the  command  of  General  Loring 
which  joined  him  in  December,  the  Valley  might 
soon  be  considered,  as  Captain  Ellingham  jubilantly 
told  Gertrude,  a  perfectly  safe  place  for  any  one — 
except  an  invader. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  THE  VALLEY 

"If  this  Valley  is  lost,  Virginia  is  lost." 

*T*HE  Valley  of  Virginia,  comprised  within  that 
•••  section  of  the  Appalachian  plateau  bounded 
on  the  east  by  the  Blue  Ridge  and  on  the  west  by 
a  range  of  the  Alleghanies  called  there  the  North 
Mountains,  stretches  from  the  headwaters  of  the 
Shenandoah  near  Staunton  on  the  south  to  the 
Potomac  on  the  north,  a  distance  of  considerably 
more  than  a  hundred  miles.  At  the  upper  end 
this  valley  is  some  forty  miles  wide,  while  at 
Strasburg,  fifty  miles  south  of  the  Potomac,  the 
extreme  width  is  scarcely  twenty-five.  Southeast 
of  this  town  the  valley  is  divided  longitudinally 
by  an  abrupt  range  of  mountains  called  the  Mas- 
sanutton,  extending  in  a  southerly  direction 
between  the  North  and  South  forks  of  the  Shenan 
doah  River,  forty  miles  to  Harrisonburg,  where 
these  uplands  again  merge  into  the  plain.  The 
two  lovely  vales  formed  by  this  intermediate  range, 

102 


In  the  Valley  103 

with  the  loftier  eastern  and  western  boundaries 
of  the  main  valley,  are  respectively  called  the 
Luray  (to  the  eastward)  and  the  Shenandoah  (to 
the  westward).  A  broad  macadamized  road,  the 
famous  Valley  Pike,  traverses  the  entire  region 
from  north  to  south,  with  lateral  roads  extending 
to  the  mountain  boundaries  on  either  side,  those 
toward  the  Blue  Ridge  connecting  through  various 
gaps  with  the  railroads  of  Eastern  Virginia. 

It  is  a  promised  land  of  plenty,  a  region  of 
romance.  Here  was  the  goal  of  Spottswood's 
Knights  of  the  Golden  Horseshoe,  who  inscribed 
on  their  banners  the  motto :  Sic  jurat  transcendere 
monies. 

A  veritable  Arcadia  it  is  in  times  of  peace,  real 
izing  the  most  fanciful  dreams  of  the  older  poets. 
The  rippling  blue  waters  of  the  Shenandoah  forks, 
winding  northward  to  unite  and  join  the  mighty 
Potomac  at  the  wild  mountain  colosseum  of 
Harper's  Ferry — skirted  by  tall  sycamores,  cypress, 
tulip-trees,  sweet  gums,  and  maples;  the  plains 
and  foot-hills,  against  the  aerial  background  of 
serrated  blue  mountains,  dotted  with  linden  and 
sassafras,  and  wreathed  with  mountain  laurel, 
in  spring  a  snowdrift  of  blossoms,  in  autumn  a 
conflagration  of  scarlet  vines  and  the  "banners 
yellow,  glorious,  golden,"  of  the  deciduous  trees; 


104  Shenandoah 

the  broad  and  bountiful  cultivated  fields,  the  em 
bowered  mansions  with  huge  red  granaries  and 
whitewashed  cabins  with  castle-like  chimneys 
of  stone;  the  idyllic  climate  of  summer,  and  the 
crisp,  clear  cold  of  winter — all  these  constitute  a 
sort  of  inland  Eden  of  freedom  and  tranquillity 
unknown  to  the  outside  world,  unknown  even  to 
Virginia  herself,  in  the  Tidewater  and  eastern 
Piedmont  districts. 

This  beautiful  and  fertile  region  called  for  pro 
tection  for  its  own  sake,  as  well  as  for  that  of  its 
patriotic  population  (of  which  the  Ellinghams 
were  a  fair  sample),  its  numerous  black  slaves, 
and  the  rich  supplies  which  its  lush  meadow-lands 
and  broad  plantations  furnished. 

It  was  especially  important,  from  a  Southern 
military  view-point,  that  the  Valley  should  be  held 
intact  by  a  Confederate  army.  No  portion  of  the 
region  could  be  given  up  without  serious  detri 
ment  to  operations  north  of  Richmond.  Pos 
session  of  the  upper  Valley  would  enable  an  enemy 
to  cut  off  the  Confederate  communication  with 
the  Southwest,  and  strike  a  dangerous  blow  at  the 
capital.  Control  of  every  foot  of  the  lower  Valley 
of  the  Shenandoah  proper  was  even  more  a  vital 
necessity.  Winchester,  the  key  to  the  region, 
was  absolutely  essential  to  the  Confederates — and 


In  the  Valley  105 

in  1 86 1  this  central  point  was  innocent  of  fortifi 
cations  of  any  description.  The  town  was  but  a 
day's  march  from  the  Potomac.  Substantial 
roads  converged  towards  it  from  Romney,  Martins- 
burg,  Shepherdstown,  Charlestown,  and  Berryville 
like  the  fingers  of  an  open  hand.  Once  in  posses 
sion  of  Winchester,  a  Federal  force  by  a  short 
march  through  the  Blue  Ridge  at  Snicker's  or 
Ashby's  or  Manassas  Gap,  could  take  Manassas 
Junction  in  flank  and  reverse,  and  assail  the 
Confederate  force  entrenched  there  at  an  enormous 
advantage. 

Thus,  to  give  up  Winchester  would  have  meant 
not  only  to  abandon  that  portion  of  the  Valley 
with  its  material  resources  and  loyal  "Secesh" 
inhabitants,  but  to  surrender  at  the  outset  prac 
tically  the  whole  extent  of  country  east  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  and  north  of  Fredericksburg.  It  was  to 
prevent  such  a  handicap  thus  early  in  the  struggle 
that  the  military  authorities  at  Richmond  has 
tened  to  send  to  the  Valley  a  redoubtable  army, 
under  the  leadership  of  an  officer  of  tried  capacity, 
courage,  and  resources — in  short,  Stonewall 
Jackson's  corps. 

Jackson  was  straining  at  the  leash  for  just  such 
a  commission. 

"If  this  Valley  is  lost,  Virginia  is  lost,"  was  his 


io6  Shenandoah 

constant  watchword.  A  native  son  of  Western 
Virginia,  the  lifelong  affection  which  Jackson 
(who  was  in  no  sense  a  fanciful  or  sentimental 
person)  showed  for  the  Valley  of  Virginia  was 
chivalrous  and  romantic.  It  was  always  "our 
Valley"  to  him,  and  when  he  addressed  his 
soldiers.  His  blows  were  never  so  swift  and  ter 
rible  as  when  he  was  compelled  to  move  away  from 
Winchester,  or  was  fighting  his  way  back  to  that 
point. 

Early  in  January,  1862,  Captain  Ellingham 
wrote  to  his  sister  in  Richmond:  "We  have 
only  conjecture  as  to  our  destination.  General 
Jackson  keeps  his  secrets  so  well  as  to  deceive  not 
only  the  enemy,  but  ourselves." 

They  were  on  the  road  to  Romney,  and  the 
weather  was  so  mild  that  the  men  left  their  over 
coats  and  blankets  behind,  to  be  brought  on  in 
the  wagons.  The  next  day  the  weather  changed, 
and  it  grew  intensely  cold.  The  men  marched  all 
day,  and  the  wagons  did  not  catch  up  with  them. 
On  the  third  day,  Jackson  continued  to  press 
forward,  despite  the  sufferings  of  his  troops — 
evidently  calculating  that  in  comparison  with  the 
success  of  the  campaign,  which  depended  upon 
the  celerity  of  his  march,  the  sufferings  of  his  army 
did  not  count.  They  grumbled,  but  followed  on. 


In  the  Valley  107 

Suddenly,  near  the  village  of  Bath,  they  en 
countered  the  Federal  forces  posted  behind  fences 
and  other  cover,  and  the  advance  guard  had  a 
severe  if  successful  skirmish. 

The  Southern  troops  encamped  just  outside 
Bath,  and  as  night  descended  a  freezing  snowstorm 
accompanied  with  hail  swept  down  from  the 
mountains,  and  beat  in  their  faces.  The  men  had 
nothing  to  eat,  and  no  blankets  to  cover  them. 
Ellingham  built  a  fire  of  fence-rails,  and  went  to 
sleep  beside  it,  but  awoke  half -frozen  about  mid 
night,  to  find  the  fire  out  and  three  inches  of  snow 
over  him.  It  was  the  same  with  the  whole  numb, 
tired,  and  disheartened  army.  This  was  the  re 
verse  of  the  medal — they  looked  upon  its  obverse 
the  next  day,  when  the  Federals  fell  back  to  the 
Potomac,  and  the  gaunt  Confederates  luxuriated 
in  their  hastily  abandoned  camps,  even  having  the 
humorous  satisfaction  of  devouring  the  excellent 
dinners  of  General  Lander  and  his  staff,  which 
were  found  smoking  on  the  board  at  the  late 
Federal  headquarters. 

Without  losing  any  time,  Jackson  now  set  out 
with  fiercer  energy  than  ever  to  surprise  the 
Federal  garrison  under  General  Kelly  at  Romney. 
The  weather  was  fearful,  even  for  ordinary  travel, 
to  say  nothing  of  forced  military  movements. 


io8  Shenandoah 

Men  and  horses  fell  on  the  icy  roads,  their  guns 
going  off  all  along  the  line,  the  knees  and  muzzles 
of  the  animals  lacerated,  the  men  limping  along, 
leaving  trails  of  blood  on  the  frozen  snow.  The 
march  was  comparable  to  Napoleon's  passage  of 
the  Alps — and  not  alone  in  its  hardships,  but 
likewise  in  its  results.  For  before  the  first  of 
February,  General  Kelly  had  evacuated  Romney, 
and  for  the  moment  there  was  no  Federal  force 
left  in  the  entire  lower  Valley 

But  nothing  was  permanent,  even  for  a  week, 
in  those  parlous  times.  A  principality  would  be 
won  and  lost  again  in  the  space  of  thirty  days. 
Stonewall  Jackson,  like  all  other  aggressive  com 
manders,  had  his  opponents  at  the  capital,  his 
rivals  and  enemies  in  his  own  army.  His  successes 
were  made  the  most  of,  by  Richmond  and  Wash 
ington  alike,  for  their  respective  purposes.  His 
losses  and  sufferings  had  to  be  minimized,  and 
borne  in  silence.  It  was  the  old  relentless  way  of 
war,  that  Blue  and  Gray  were  learning  by  stren 
uous  experience  in  that  first  groping  year  of  the 
great  struggle. 

With  the  opening  of  spring,  four  Federal  armies 
— under  Fremont,  Banks,  McDowell,  and  Mc- 
Clellan  respectively — were  ready  to  close  in  upon 
Richmond.  Fremont  and  Banks,  in  the  north 


In  the  Valley  109 

and  west,  expected  to  unite  their  forces  and  drive 
Jackson  up  the  Valley,  cutting  the  Confederate 
communications,  and  then  to  sweep  down  upon 
Richmond  from  the  mountains,  while  McClellan 
marched  up  the  Peninsula  between  the  James 
and  York  rivers,  and  McDowell  advanced  from 
Fredericksburg. 

Early  in  March,  Stonewall  Jackson  was  back 
in  Winchester,  with  Banks  and  an  augmented 
Federal  force  at  his  heels  on  the  north,  and  Shields 
with  another  army  reported  at  Strasburg,  to  the 
southward.  Here  occurred  one  of  those  strange 
incidents  which  in  after  years  stood  out  more 
vividly  than  the  battles  themselves  in  the 
memories  of  those  who,  like  Robert  Ellingham 
and  Kerchival  West,  were  individual  straws 
tossed  on  the  converging  torrents  of  the  Civil 
War. 

Being  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Belle 
Bosquet,  the  Ellingham  homestead,  Bob  joyously 
seized  the  opportunity  to  sleep  once  more  under 
the  old  roof.  At  the  same  time,  the  hospitalities 
of  the  mansion  were  extended  to  General  Jackson 
and  his  staff. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Graham,  a  Presbyterian  clergy 
man  of  Winchester,  and  an  intimate  personal 
friend  of  the  General,  called  to  offer  his  blessing. 


no  Shenandoah 

Jackson  was  in  unusually  high  spirits — what  for 
him  amounted  almost  to  gayety.  There  was 
only  one  thing  that  could  put  "Old  Stonewall" 
in  such  a  mood,  every  one  agreed — and  that  was, 
the  presence  or  the  immediate  prospect  of  a  fight. 

When  the  hour  for  evening  prayer  arrived,  the 
General  asked  permission,  as  was  his  wont,  to 
read  a  chapter  from  the  Bible.  He  then  followed 
the  clergyman  in  prayer,  and  his  voice  quivered 
with  the  eloquence  of  exaltation.  As  the  little 
group,  including  two  or  three  aged  members  of 
the  household  and  a  near  neighbor  or  two,  rose 
from  their  knees,  Jackson  remained  standing  in 
silence  for  a  moment,  then  said  abruptly: 

"My  good  friends,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  am 
going  to  do  to-night.  I  shall  attack  the  enemy 
and  defeat  him." 

He  reached  for  his  cap,  and  strode  from  the 
house. 

It  was  not  yet  midnight,  and  nobody  had 
thought  of  retiring,  but  only  of  sitting  around  the 
log  fire  and  discussing  excitedly  the  news  that  had 
been  confided,  when  the  General  came  back — 
slowly  now,  and  looking  haggard  and  dispirited. 

"I  have  come  to  say  farewell,"  he  announced,  in 
accents  of  depression.  "  I  find  I  must  leave  you." 

He  sank  into  a  chair,  and  bowed  his  head  in 


In  the  Valley  in 

gloomy  reverie.  Then  he  suddenly  aroused  him 
self,  and  starting  to  his  feet  with  flushed  cheeks 
and  flashing  eyes,  he  grasped  his  sword-hilt  and 
exclaimed: 

"No!  I  can't  leave  ^Winchester  without  a 
fight." 

His  astonished  auditors  stared  in  silence. 
Finally,  after  a  long  dramatic  pause,  he  drove  his 
sword  back  with  a  ringing  clash  into  the  scabbard, 
and  in  tones  of  profound  discouragement  said: 

"No!  They  would  follow  me,  but  I  cannot 
sacrifice  my  few  brave  men.  I  must  save  them 
for  better  use.  I  intended  to  attack  the  enemy 
on  the  Martinsburg  road,  but  they  are  approach 
ing  on  the  flanks  too,  and  would  surround  me.  I 
must  fall  back." 

That  was  Stonewall  Jackson's  au  revoir.  That 
same  night  he  recalled  his  troops  from  their  po 
sition  in  front  of  the  enemy,  left  the  cavalry  to 
guard  his  rear,  and  silently  evacuated  Winchester. 

Here  Bob  Ellingham  first  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  Colonel  Ashby,  commanding  Jackson's 
cavalry — a  wondrous  cavalier  from  Fauquier 
County,  mounted  on  a  milk-white  blooded  horse, 
the  most  dashing  rider  in  the  whole  State  of 
Virginia,  and  as  a  leader  of  partisans  destined  soon 
to  rank  among  the  foremost  of  his  contemporaries. 


ii2  Shenandoah 

Ashby  looked  like  a  Moor,  and  had  the  chivalrous 
soul  of  a  Saladin. 

When  the  Federal  column,  eight  thousand 
strong,  entered  Winchester  the  next  morning, 
Ashby  remained  behind  with  less  than  half  a 
dozen  men — Ellingham  among  the  number — 
around  him,  until  the  enemy  had  swarmed  the 
town  and  were  within  two  hundred  yards  of  his 
position.  They  had  observed  this  defiant  cava 
lier,  and  sent  a  squad  of  troopers  to  make  a 
circuit,  and  by  striking  the  Valley  turnpike  in 
his  rear,  to  intercept  him  and  cut  off  his  retreat. 
Ashby  seemed  to  pay  no  attention  to  this  move, 
and  Bob  sat  in  his  saddle  with  chills  running 
up  and  down  his  spine,  wondering  what  was 
going  to  happen.  The  Federal  advance  was 
close  upon  them,  when  suddenly  Ashby  waved 
his  sabre  around  his  head,  uttered  a  wild  yell, 
cried  "Follow  me!"  and  galloped  off  like  the  wind, 
the  others  as  close  after  him  as  their  horses  could 
stretch.  At  the  edge  of  the  town  they  were  con 
fronted  by  the  men  who  had  gone  around  to  in 
tercept  them.  "Halt ! "  the  foemen  cried.  Ashby 
took  his  bridle  in  his  teeth,  levelled  his  revolver 
with  his  left  hand,  and  shot  a  cavalryman  on  that 
side,  sabred  another  on  his  right,  then  clutched  a 
third  by  the  throat,  dragged  him  from  the  saddle, 


In  the  Valley  113 

and  carried  him  off  a  prisoner  at  full  gallop,  while 
Ellingham  and  his  companions  followed  on  through 
the  breach  thus  made,  amidst  the  crack  of  cavalry 
carabines  and  the  roar  of  artillery  that  was  "the 
lullaby  and  reveille"  of  Jackson's  little  army. 

They  struck  Shields  near  Woodstock,  some 
forty  miles  up  the  pike,  and  on  March  23d  at 
tacked  him  at  Kernstown, — and  were  repulsed. 
This  was  one  of  the  few  setbacks  Jackson  encount 
ered  in  his  campaign — and  the  furious  impulse 
of  his  rebound  that  followed  immediately  after 
made  it  a  costly  victory  for  his  opponent.  A 
frenzy  seized  "Old  Stonewall"  and  his  men,  and 
made  them  invincible,  irresistible.  The  limitless 
resources  of  the  now  thoroughly  aroused  Washing 
ton  Government  were  brought  to  bear  in  earnest 
upon  this  bold  rebel. 

The  whole  Valley  was  alive  with  marching 
and  counter-marching,  advancing  and  retreating 
armies.  Jackson's  desperate  game  was  to  present 
a  menacing  front  in  several  directions  at  once, 
whilst  awaiting  reinforcements  sorely  needed. 
General  Banks  came  over  from  Manassas,  bent 
upon  his  destruction.  At  the  same  time,  Blenker, 
on  his  way  with  ten  thousand  men  to  join  Fre 
mont  was  instructed  to  report  to  him  as  he  fol 
lowed  Jackson  up  the  Valley.  Jackson  stood  at 


1 14  Shenandoah 

bay  at  Swift  Run  Gap  in  the  Blue  Ridge  Moun 
tains  with  the  Shenandoah  River  in  his  front  and 
his  flanks  protected  by  the  foot-hills.  Ewell, 
with  a  handy  Confederate  force,  was  not  far 
away,  but  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains  in 
Jackson's  rear,  at  Gordonsville. 

In  this  tight  place,  Jackson  called  upon  General 
Lee  at  Richmond  to  reinforce  him  with  five 
thousand  men.  Lee  could  not  spare  any  from  the 
defence  of  Richmond,  but  suggested  that  a  union 
might  be  effected  with  General  Edward  Johnson 
and  his  thirty-five  hundred  troops  at  Staunton. 
Ewell  was  expected  to  move  eastward  against 
McDowell's  Federal  army  at  Fredericksburg. 
Meanwhile,  Banks  with  his  large  force  was  watch 
ing  General  Edward  Johnson  from  Harrisonburg. 
The  Federal  generals  Milroy  and  Schenck  had 
moved  up  west  of  the  mountains,  in  front  of 
Johnson,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Fremont  from  the 
north. 

It  was  now  the  end  of  April,  and  Stonewall 
Jackson  started  in  to  do  the  theoretically  impos 
sible.  Evading  Banks  at  Harrisonburg,  he  moved 
with  incredible  swiftness  to  Staunton,  joined  his 
force  with  Johnson's,  and  defeated  Milroy  and 
Schenck  at  one  fell  blow.  This  great  advantage 
had  to  be  followed  up,  so  Ewell  marched  over 


In  the  Valley  115 

into  the  Valley  from  Gordonsville,  compelling 
Banks  to  fall  back  to  Strasburg.  Having  dis 
posed  of  the  two  Federal  commanders,  Jackson 
with  Ewell  now  hot-footed  it  to  Front  Royal, 
where  the  north  and  south  forks  of  the  Shenan- 
doah  River  unite  at  the  northern  end  of  the 
Massanutton  ridge. 

The  work  cut  out  for  the  Confederates  at  Front 
Royal  was  nothing  less  than  an  onslaught  upon 
General  McDowell,  who  in  view  of  the  alarming 
Federal  reverses  hi  the  Valley  had  been  suddenly 
switched  off  from  his  march  to  join  McClellan  in 
the  advance  upon  Richmond,  and  had  been  sent 
via  Manassas  Gap  to  reinforce  Fremont. 

The  stunning  success  of  Jackson  at  Front 
Royal,  and  subsequently  at  Cross  Keys  and  Port 
Republic  on  the  Shenandoah,  was  achieved  by  a 
startling  series  of  manoeuvres  little  understood 
by  the  world  at  the  time,  save  that  in  a  general 
way  they  meant  that  he  "held  one  commander 
at  arm's  length,  while  he  hammered  the  other." 

"I  have  seen  grand  Old  Jack  rattled,  for  once," 
Captain  Ellingham  wrote  his  sister,  from  Front 
Royal.  "We  were  opposite  Port  Republic,  and 
the  General,  with  a  part  of  his  staff,  had  crossed 
over  the  bridge  into  the  town,  when  the  enemy 
appeared  in  force,  with  the  evident  design  of 


1 16  Shenandoah 

attacking  the  town,  destroying  the  bridge  over 
the  Shenandoah,  and  thus  cutting  off  our  army, 
and  getting  in  our  rear.  Jackson  sent  some 
hurried  orders  to  Taliaferro  and  Winder  for  the 
defence  of  the  bridge;  but  before  these  could  be 
executed  the  advance  Federal  batteries  had  opened 
fire,  and  their  cavalry,  crossing  the  South  River, 
had  swept  into  the  town  and  taken  position  at 
the  southern  entrance  to  the  bridge.  You  see, 
the  General  had  not  recrossed  the  river,  and  so  he 
was  completely  cut  off,  and  we  did  n't  know  it. 
They  do  say  he  met  the  emergency  with  the  most 
audacious  display  of  nerve  and  presence  of  mind 
that  ever  you  heard  of — actually  rode  toward 
the  bridge,  and,  rising  in  his  stirrups,  called  out 
to  the  Federal  officer  commanding  the  artillery, 
'Who  ordered  you  to  post  that  gun  there,  sir? 
Bring  it  over  here. '  It  fooled  them  long  enough 
to  enable  Jackson  to  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and 
dash  on  to  the  bridge  at  full  gallop.  Three  hasty 
shots  followed  him,  but  they  flew  harmless  over 
his  head,  and  he  reached  our  quarters  on  the 
northern  bank  in  safety.  And  was  he  rattled? 
Well,  at  the  moment  of  the  scare,  I  saw  young 
Bob  Lee  (youngest  son  of  General  Lee,  you  know, 
who  is  only  fifteen,  and  left  the  University  to  join 
the  Stonewall  Brigade  as  a  private),  going  down 


Gen.  Buckthorn.—"  What!    You  defy  my  authority?    Colonel  West,  I 
command  you!     Search  the  prisoner!  " 
Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 


In  the  Valley  117 

to  the  bank  of  the  stream  to, fetch  up  some  water. 
He  had  the  big  camp  kettle  slung  over  his  shoul 
der,  and  I  suppose  the  General  in  his  excitement 
thought  it  was  a  drum,  for  as  he  flew  past  he 
shouted  out  to  Bob : 

"  'Hi,  there,  drummer!  beat  the  long  roll!' 
"That  was  a  close  shave,  dear  Sis.  But  I 
believe,  and  so  do  we  all,  that  our  Stonewall 
Jackson  lives  a  charmed  life,  while  he  has  this  job 
of  clearing  the  Valley  to  perform,  and  nothing  can 
stop  him.  Do  you  know  what  the  Yanks  call 
him?  the  'ubiquitous  Presbyterian.'  It  seems 
like  a  wild  dream,  as  I  look  back  upon  what  has 
happened  since  you  and  I  parted  at  Richmond. 
Our  great  commander,  whom  we  were  rather  in 
clined  to  poke  fun  at  in  the  beginning,  and  whose 
recklessness  many  distrusted  a  long  while  after 
that,  has  bowled  over  the  Federal  commanders 
as  fast  as  they  could  be  hurled  against  him — 
Banks,  Fremont,  Shields,  Milroy,  with  subordi 
nates  like  Blenker,  Sigel,  Steinwehr,  and  other  able 
soldiers  defeated,  and  the  whole  upper  Valley 
regained.  Why,  think  of  it!  in  three  months  he 
— may  I  say  WE? — have  marched,  I  suppose,  six 
hundred  miles,  fought  four  pitched  battles,  and 
seven  minor  engagements,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
regular  daily  skirmishes.  And  we  have  defeated 


n8  Shenandoah 

four  armies,  captured  seven  pieces  of  artillery, 
ten  thousand  stand  of  arms,  four  thousand  prison 
ers,  and  any  amount  of  stores,  besides  fabulous 
sums  (as  I  hear)  of  cash  money.  What  our  ad 
versaries'  losses  in  killed  and  wounded  foot  up 
I  don't  know,  but  they  could  not  have  been  small. 
Ours  were  less,  comparatively — but,  oh !  Gertrude, 
we  have  lost  our  Ashby.  He  fell  in  a  moment  of 
triumph,  and  his  last  words  were,  'Virginians, 
charge!'  I  am  sure  his  name  will  always  be  re 
membered  and  honored  by  the  people  of  Virginia. 
He  never  forgot  that  he  was  a  gentleman,  and  he 
kept  his  escutcheon  unstained  by  any  blot.  He 
was  not  a  Presbyterian,  like  Old  Jack,  but  he  was 
devout  and  childlike  in  his  religious  faith,  and  a 
regular  attendant  on  the  services  of  the  Episcopal 
Church,  which  was  the  church  of  his  ancestors. 
He  may  have  kept  himself  a  bit  aloof  from  the 
vulgar  camp  fun  or  moments  of  abandonment, 
though  no  man  was  more  frank  and  gay  on  the 
march  or  in  bivouac. 

"Is  it  worth  these  sacrifices?  Gertrude,  in 
spite  of  all  our  successes,  I  wish  this  nightmare  of 
Civil  War  were  over,  and  well  over — but  who  can 
tell  now  when  we  shall  be  out  of  the  woods? 
There  are  things  in  the  Valley,  and  right  around 
our  home,  that  I  had  rather  not  tell  you  about." 


In  the  Valley  119 

Washington,  remembering  Bull  Run,  had  ner 
vous  prostration  whenever  Stonewall  Jackson  was 
reported  in  action  anywhere  within  a  hundred 
miles  of  the  Potomac.  For  this  reason,  it  is 
probably  historic  truth  to  say  that  Stonewall 
Jackson  saved  Richmond  to  the  Confederates  in 
1862, — in  the  first  place  by  diverting  McDowell's 
army  to  the  Valley,  in  the  second  place  by  march 
ing  fresh  from  his  own  victories  in  that  same 
Valley  to  join  Lee  in  the  Seven  Days'  Battles 
around  the  Confederate  capital. 


CHAPTER  IX 
SHENANDOAH'S  DAUGHTER 

"Shenandoah,  I  love  your  daughter — 
Love  her,  and  I  had  n't  oughter." 

I  AM  going  back  home,"  said  Gertrude  Elling- 

ham,  with  determination.     "I  long  to  see  the 

Valley  once  more,  and  I  can  do  just  as  much  good  at 

Belle  Bosquet  as  I  can  here — perhaps  more,  now." 

It  was  not  because  of  the  anxious  outlook  in 
Richmond,  with  McClellan's  army  almost  within 
gunshot — on  the  contrary,  that  in  itself  would 
have  kept  her  in  the  threatened  Confederate  capi 
tal,  had  not  stronger  ties  of  both  duty  and  senti 
ment  drawn  her  homeward. 

The  circumstances  that  her  brother  Robert  had 
intimated  he  "had  rather  not  tell  her  about"  in 
his  letters,  came  to  her  in  all  their  fearsome  detail, 
and  without  any  softening  or  glozing  over,  from 
various  sources  both  North  and  South,  especially 
in  the  newspapers.  Between  the  time  of  Stone 
wall  Jackson's  retreat  from  Winchester  and  the 

1 20 


121 

disaster  which  overtook  him  at  Kernstown,  proba 
bly  the  most  desperate  and  hazardous  encoun 
ters  of  the  war,  up  to  that  period,  had  taken  place. 
Even  General  Shields  reported,  in  a  moment  when 
hard- won  victory  seemed  to  be  perching  upon  the 
Federal  banners:  "The  enemy's  sufferings  have 
been  terrible,  and  such  as  they  have  nowhere  else 
endured  since  the  beginning  of  this  war."  The 
people  around  Winchester  might  stubbornly  insist 
upon  regarding  "the  gallant  fight  of  Sunday"  in 
the  light  of  a  victory ;  but  the  pathetic  irony  of  such 
an  attitude  appeared  in  the  undisguisable  fact  that 
the  "march  of  triumph  rather  than  defeat"  which 
they  proudly  alluded  to  was  the  passage  of  Con 
federate  prisoners  through  the  town,  heavily 
guarded,  on  their  way  to  Harper's  Ferry! 

But  the  ladies  of  Winchester  welcomed  them  as 
conquering  heroes.  Handkerchiefs  waved  from 
every  window,  fair  cheeks  were  flushed  and  bright 
eyes  glistened  with  scornful  tears,  as  mothers, 
sisters,  wives,  and  sweethearts  glanced  from  the 
ragged  scarecrows  of  Jackson  to  the  spruce-looking 
Federal  officers,  and  nursed  an  intensified  bitter 
ness  towards  the  blue  uniform.  The  scene  changed 
to  deepest  tragedy  when  these  same  women  went 
to  search  the  ghastly  field  of  Kernstown,  where  the 
mayor  and  citizens  of  Winchester  had  dug  a  pit 


122  Shenandoah 

to  bury  the  unidentified  bodies  of  the  Southern 
soldiers.  The  Federal  officers  present  were  deeply 
affected  at  the  spectacle — and  what  made  it  worse 
for  them  was,  the  evidence  that  every  feeling  of 
these  Southern  ladies,  even  grief  for  the  slain,  was 
merged  into  hatred  of  themselves. 

The  correspondent  of  the  Northern  newspaper 
in  which  Gertrude  Ellingham  read  these  accounts, 
continued:  "There  is  nothing  that  these  Southern 
women  will  not  surrender  with  a  smile — the 
gemmed  ring,  the  diamond  bracelet,  the  rich  ward 
robe.  They  cut  up  costly  carpets  for  soldiers' 
blankets  without  a  sigh,  and  take  their  own 
dainty  personal  linen  for  bandages.  When  the 
wounded  prisoners  came  through, — about  the 
roughest,  dirtiest  looking  set  of  fellows  the  sun  ever 
shone  on, — you  should  have  seen  the  fair  young 
traitoresses  come  forth  from  the  old  aristocratic 
mansions,  bringing  restoratives  and  delicacies  in 
their  hands,  mingling  in  the  dingy  crowd,  wiping 
the  blood  and  grime  away  with  their  white  hand 
kerchiefs,  and  uttering  words  of  cheer — doing  this 
with  the  Union  guards  all  around,  and  smiling  back 
upon  the  rough  blackguards  of  rebels  as  they  left. 
But  in  all  there  was  a  defiant  air  in  their  humanity 
strange  to  see.  Of  a  truth,  they  carried  it  off 
grandly.  And  some  of  these  girls  were  in  mourn- 


Shenandoah's  Daughter          123 

ing  for  dead  rebels — brothers,  lovers,  friends, 
whom  these  same  girls  had  sneered  into  treason 
and  driven  into  rebellion,  and  with  whose  graves 
they  keep  right  on  billowing  all  the  South  to-day! 
The  least  they  can  do  is  to  wear  black  for  the  dead, 
and  flaunt  their  colors  from  the  window  blinds  for 
the  living." 

The  Virginia  girl's  blood  mounted  high,  and  she 
exclaimed,  as  she  flung  down  the  paper: 

"Let  them  send  the  whole  population  of  the 
North  down  here,  if  they  will,  but  they  can  never 
conquer  us!  When  they  have  killed  off  our  men, 
we  will  shed  the  last  drop  of  our  own  blood." 

Captain  Kerchival  West,  of  the  Union  Army 
of  Southwest  Missouri,  as  he  read  these  same 
accounts  whilst  alternately  burning  and  shivering 
in  the  ague-stricken  camps  of  the  lower  Mississippi 
valley  around  Corinth,  thought  in  feverish  fancy 
that  he  could  hear  Gertrude  saying  just  such  words 
as  these.  Her  hate,  as  he  imagined  it,  was  like  his 
love — an  unreasoning,  all-consuming  passion.  He 
felt  himself  ominously  fortified  with  the  double 
strength  of  hope  and  despair — for  love  is  a  flame 
that  feeds  upon  despair,  and  takes  a  lurid  halo  of 
glory  most  of  all  when  lavished  wildly  and  in  vain. 
One  sovereign  solace  he  had — that  he  was  wearing 
the  blue  and  fighting  loyally  for  the  Old  Flag  in  a 


124  Shenandoah 

campaign  sufficiently  remote  from  the  Valley  of 
Virginia.  After  all,  Fate  had  been  kind  to  him, 
he  thought,  as  he  recalled  his  farewell  words  with 
Bob  Ellingham,  at  Charleston — was  it  ages  ago,  or 
only  a  little  more  than  a  year  back?  "All  right, 
Bob — I  only  hope  we  never  meet  in  battle,  that 's 
all."  And  then  they  had  both  saddened,  as  they 
added,  "Who  knows?"  Who  knew,  indeed. 
What  a  tangled  skein  of  lives  it  was,  anyway !  One 
thing  was  certain — he  may  have  been  glad  he  was 
not  fighting  in  Virginia,  and  yet  his  heart  was 
there  all  the  time. 

Meanwhile,  Gertrude's  decision  to  leave  Rich 
mond  and  go  home  to  the  Valley  was  put  into  exe 
cution  with  characteristic  impulse.  It  was  a  bad 
time  for  such  a  journey.  That  made  no  difference 
about  her  embarking  upon  it,  but  it  did  lead  to 
some  very  complicated  and  roundabout  arrange 
ments  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  trip.  Her 
Confederate  War  Office  friends,  for  reasons  essen 
tially  their  own,  decreed  that  if  she  went  at  all  it 
must  be  by  way  of  Baltimore  and  Harper's  Ferry. 
For  the  last-named  barrier,  a  Federal  pass  would 
be  required,  this  to  be  procured  at  Baltimore.  And 
to  get  to  Baltimore,  by  water,  of  course  it  was  nec 
essary  to  run  the  Federal  blockade.  But  this 
would  be  comparatively  easy,  under  the  plan 


Shenandoah's  Daughter          125 

agreed  upon,  by  which  Gertrude  was  to  have  a 
travelling  companion, — a  mysterious  Southern 
lady  who  knew  the  routes  intimately,  and  who 
seemed  to  be  rather  closely  in  touch  with  the 
Executive  departments  at  Richmond,  for  one  who 
confidently  promised  to  arrange  the  little  matter 
of  Federal  passes  at  Baltimore. 

This  young  person — she  seemed  not  over  twenty 
— was  introduced  somewhat  vaguely  as  Mrs. 
Smith.  She  was  well  dressed,  fairly  good-looking, 
and  a  bright  talker,  particularly  with  the  men. 
Her  self-confidence  was  perhaps  a  trifle  excessive; 
but  then,  this  would  not  come  amiss  for  two  unpro 
tected  females  abroad  in  Dixie  in  war-time.  She 
was  devoted  body  and  soul  to  The  Cause,  and  this 
supreme  qualification  overshadowed  everything 
else.  She  was  understood  but  lately  to  have 
"escaped"  from  Washington. 

On  the  first  stage  of  the  journey  overland,  as 
they  stopped  over  night  at  Petersburg,  Gertrude 
said  to  her  fascinating  room-mate: 

"Mrs.  Smith,  I  have  told  you  what  little  there 
is  of  interest  about  myself  and  my  plans.  I  do  so 
wish  you  would  tell  me  something  of  your  own 
adventures." 

"I  don't  mind,  my  dear,  now  that  we  are  off  and 
on  our  way,"  laughed  the  other,  as  she  saturated 


126  Shenandoah 

a  handkerchief  with  eau  de  cologne  and  washed  her 
face  with  it.  "By  the  way,  my  real  name  is  Belle 
Boyd." 

"Goodness  gracious!  Belle  Boyd,  of  the  Secret 
Service?" 

"Yes,  honey  child.  That 's  what  we  are  on, 
now." 

"But — if  they  should  suspect  us,  after  we  cross 
the  lines,  they  would  arrest  and  detain  us,  would 
they  not?" 

"They  hang  spies,"  Miss  Boyd  replied.  "But 
I  don't  reckon  they  will  get  us.  Of  course  I  won't 
be  Miss  Boyd,  and  you  won't  be  Miss  Ellingham, 
from  now  on." 

A  civilian  met  "Miss  Page  and  Mrs.  Smith"  at 
the  Light  Street  wharf  in  Baltimore.  He  took 
them  to  a  Federal  captain,  and  the  captain  sent 
them  to  his  superior  officer,  General  Fisher.  Belle 
Boyd,  now  "  Mrs.  Smith,"  stated  their  case. 

"We  are  Southerners,  General,  and  we  wish  to  go 
South  by  way  of  Harper's  Ferry,"  she  said,  hand 
ing  him  a  note  which  the  captain  had  given  her. 

He  read  the  note,  looked  at  the  pair  with  a 
quizzical  expression,  and  then  nodded  his  head. 

"Very  well,  ladies.  I  will  make  out  your  passes, 
which  will  take  you  to  General  Kelly  at  Harper's 
Ferry.  My  jurisdiction  ends  there,  but  you  will 


Shenandoah's  Daughter          127 

find  General  Kelly  a  courteous  and  considerate 
gentleman.  Beyond  that,  I  can  make  no  promises 
for  him,  you  understand.  If  everything  is  all 
right,  why — you  will  be  all  right.  You  will  have 
an  escort  as  far  as  Harper's  Ferry,  and  an  officer 
will  be  sent  this  afternoon  to  your  boarding-place 
to  examine  your  baggage." 

The  baggage  searcher  found  them  duly  pre 
pared,  and  no  obstacle  came  up  to  prevent  the  girls 
from  taking  the  westward  bound  train  on  the 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  road,  at  noon  the  next  day. 
Their  escort  was  a  flirtatious  young  lieutenant, 
whom  "Mrs.  Smith," — newly  widowed  for  the 
occasion — engaged  in  an  instructive  conversation 
about  Federal  military  matters,  which  lasted  until, 
towards  sunset,  the  slow  train  drew  up  under  the 
shadows  of  the  frowning  Loudon  Heights  and 
Heights  of  Maryland,  at  the  historic  point  where 
the  Shenandoah  River  breaks  through  the  moun 
tain  wall  and  falls  into  the  Potomac — and  they  had 
reached  their  destination.  Here  the  young  lieu 
tenant  squeezed  their  hands,  and  bade  them  a 
polite  farewell.  So  far,  so  good. 

Evidently  there  was  a  riot  going  on  in  the  little 
shut-in  town  at  the  end  of  the  long  railroad  bridge 
across  the  Potomac,  where  the  old  arsenal  and  the 
engine  house  which  had  been  John  Brown's  fort 


128  Shenandoah 

lay  close  upon  the  railroad  tracks,  with  dwelling 
houses,  barracks  and  taverns  straggling  up  the 
hilly  streets  behind. 

There  had  been  more  fighting,  of  a  desultory 
sort,  in  the  lower  part  of  the  Valley,  where  the 
Federals  still  had  the  controlling  hand.  They 
had  just  paid  off,  and  the  troops  were  celebrating. 
Naturally,  they  gravitated  towards  the  taverns, 
so  it  was  through  a  very  boisterous  mob  in  blue 
that  the  two  lone  women  passed,  on  their  way  to  a 
night's  lodging,  following  a  local  guide  to  whom 
their  Baltimore  escort  had  assigned  them. 

They  held  a  consultation  in  the  parlor  of  a 
"hotel"  full  of  drunken  soldiers,  and  decided  to 
go  out  and  make  inquiries  of  anyone  who  might 
seem  sober  enough  to  answer,  as  to  where  they 
could  hire  a  vehicle  to  forward  them  on  their 
journey.  All  uncertainty  was  promptly  dispelled 
— they  could  not  get  out  of  Harper's  Ferry  that 
night. 

Meanwhile,  they  had  discovered  that  General 
Kelly's  office  adjoined  the  place  where  they  had 
been  marooned,  as  it  were.  They  sought  out  the 
commanding  officer,  who  received  them  courte 
ously,  heard  them  with  wonderful  patience — 
under  the  circumstances — and  on  the  whole  was 
quite  sympathetic.  But  what  could  he  do? 


Shenandoah's  Daughter          129 

"I  can  give  you  your  passes,"  said  he,  "but  I 
don't  see  what  you  are  going  to  hire  to  travel  in, 
unless  an  ox-cart  or  a  broken-down  wagon — and 
the  roads  are  almost  impassable,  even  for  staunch 
vehicles.  Besides,  it  is  not  safe  for  you  to  travel 
without  military  escort,  and  that  I  have  no  author 
ity  to  furnish.  If  you  ladies  were  prisoners,  now, 
I  might  send  you  through  our  lines  under  escort, 
all  right." 

"That  may  happen  to  us,  before  we  get  home," 
whispered  Gertrude,  flippantly,  though  she  felt 
like  crying. 

"And  this  is  hardly  a  fit  place  for  ladies  to  spend 
the  night  in,"  continued  the  General,  in  his  rdle  of 
Job's  comforter. 

"Do  you  mean  that  we  ought  to  go  back  to 
Baltimore?"  asked  Belle  Boyd,  energetically. 

"Well,  you  see,  ladies,  you  are  in  the  difficult 
position  of  Southerners  sent  South.  The  present 
policy  of  the  Government  is  to  send  all  Southern 
ers  below  the  line  to  stay,  but  they  must  be  well 
vouched  for.  I  am  only  explaining  the  situation 
to  you.  I  can't  very  well  send  you  back  without 
authority.  Perhaps  the  best  thing  for  you  to  do  is 
to  hold  out  at  the  hotel  until  I  can  telegraph  to 
General  Fisher.  My  orderly  will  notify  you  as 
soon  as  I  hear  from  him." 

9 


130  Shenandoah 

"We  will  go  back  and  wait,"  said  Gertrude's 
companion,  determinedly. 

They  noticed  amongst  the  groups  thronging  the 
tavern  a  half-dozen  gray-coated  Confederates 
who  had  been  captured  the  day  before.  One  of 
these,  evidently  an  officer,  paced  restlessly  up  and 
down  the  room,  while  the  guard  kept  an  eye  on 
him.  He  peered  closely  at  the  two  girls  as  he 
passed  them,  and  they  returned  his  gaze  with 
interest.  Gertrude  was  wondering  if  she  had  not 
seen  that  face  somewhere  before,  when  suddenly 
without  stopping  or  turning  his  head,  the  man 
dropped  these  words  in  a  stage  whisper: 

"Are  you  going  South?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Belle  Boyd,  like  a  flash. 

At  the  next  turn,  he  muttered: 

"Take  a  word?" 

Another  affirmative. 

"Get  message  to  General  Johnston,  at  Rich 
mond ' ' 

Across  the  room  again. 

" — that  you  saw  Captain  Thornton  here,  a 
prisoner." 

Captain  Thornton!  then,  it  was  he — Edward 
Thornton,  Gertrude's  Charleston  acquaintance  of 
a  year  ago  last  Spring. 

"What  shall  you  do? "  she  whispered  Belle  Boyd. 


Shenandoah's  Daughter          131 

"That  will  depend  on  what  they  are  going  to  do 
with  us  here, ' '  was  the  nonchalant  reply.  ' '  I  know 
this  officer — he  is  an  important  man.  If  I  can 
help  him  out,  I  shall  do  so." 

Presently  an  orderly  came  in  with  a  telegram 
from  General  Fisher  to  General  Kelly.  Its  purport 
was,  that  the  ladies  had  been  sent  South  at  their 
own  request,  and  no  further  intervention  would  be 
practicable. 

"A  pretty  plight  we  're  in ! "  exclaimed  Gertrude, 
more  loudly  than  she  was  aware.  "We  can  't  go 
South,  we  can  't  return  North,  and  we  can  't 
remain  here." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  how  you  can  get  sent  on,"  said  one 
of  the  Federal  guard,  who  had  made  it  his  business 
to  find  out  how  affairs  stood  with  the  fair  strangers. 
"You  jest  get  up  and  holler  for  Jeff  Davis,  and 
you  '11  get  sent  on  quick  enough." 

"Hurrah  for  the  Confederate  flag!"  cried  Belle 
Boyd,  in  shrill,  sheer  bravado. 

Then,  as  nobody  came  in  response,  she  led  the 
way  back  to  General  Kelly's  office. 

"It  was  just  as  I  feared,  ladies,"  said  that 
officer,  gallantly.  "Now,  the  only  thing  I  can 
suggest  is,  that  maybe  you  would  be  willing  to  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance.  That  would  simplify  mat 
ters.  What  do  you  say  ? '  \ 


132  Shenandoah 

They  said  nothing,  but  followed  the  General 
into  an  adjoining  room,  where  a  couple  of  staff 
officers  sat  at  a  writing  desk.  Federal  soldiers 
were  lounging  all  about,  smoking  and  noise-making. 
A  man  at  the  desk  started  to  read  the  oath  aloud. 
Before  he  had  finished  the  first  sentence,  Belle 
Boyd  cried  out: 

"Great  saints!  it 's  the  'ironclad'." 

"We  won't  listen  to  it,"  declared  Gertrude, 
promptly. 

With  that,  the  two  turned  and  marched  out  of 
the  room.  A  loud  roar  of  laughter  went  up,  in 
which  General  Kelly  joined. 

"Just  as  I  expected,"  said  he.  "I  thought  you 
were  game." 

"Now,  what  next,  General?"  asked  Belle  Boyd, 
cheerily. 

"If  we  must  be  hung,  please  notify  us,"  added 
Gertrude. 

"Another  alternative  presents  itself,"  the  Gen 
eral  went  on,  seriously  enough,  now.  "Strange 
to  say,  there  appears  to  be  a  Washington  end  to 
this  affair,  and  I  am  expecting  shortly  to  get  word 
from  headquarters.  In  any  event,  you  will  have 
to  stop  here  over  night.  So,  if  you  will  make  your 
selves  as  comfortable  as  circumstances  permit,  we 
will  hope  for  the  best,  and  await  developments." 


Shenandoah's  Daughter          133 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  next  they  saw 
General  Kelly.  He  handed  them  a  telegram  which 
he  had  just  received  from  Washington.  It  read: 

"  Miss  Page  and  Mrs.  Smith  are  friends  of  mine. 
See  them  through  if  you  can.  If  not,  will  send  on 
an  officer  to  Harper's  Ferry  to-night.  Answer. 

"BUCKTHORN." 

"  It  is  from  Major-General  Buckthorn,"  explain 
ed  General  Kelly.  "And  here  is  a  copy  of  my 
answer  to  him: 

"Will  see  them  through.     You  need  not  send. 

"KELLY." 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone  together,  Belle  Boyd 
asked  Gertrude: 

"Who  on  earth  is  Major-General  Buckthorn? 
I  have  never  heard  of  him." 

"I  have,"  replied  Gertrude,  "and  he  is  an  influ 
ential  Federal  commander,  as  you  may  well  believe. 
But  how  he  ever  knew  of  my  being  here  in  a  scrape 
at  Harper's  Ferry,  and  why  he  comes  to  my  rescue 
as  a  friend  in  time  of  need,  seeing  we  have  never 
met  personally,  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  under 
stand Unless,  unless Oh,  I  wonder?  But, 

tell  me — I  am  dying  of  curiosity  about  that 
Confederate  prisoner  who  spoke  to  us — Captain 
Thornton,  was  it  not?" 

"Yes.     You  know  him?" 


134  Shenandoah 

"The  Edward  Thornton  whom  I  knew  in 
Charleston  did  not  have  that  horrid  scar  on  his 
face." 

"It  comes  in  very  well  as  a  disguise,  then," 
laughed  Belle  Boyd,  "for  Captain  Thornton  is  in 
the  Secret  Service.  He  is  a  comrade  of  mine,  and 
I  am  going  to  help  him.  This  meeting  has  changed 
my  plans — so  you  won't  mind  going  on  alone  from 
Berry ville,  will  you,  dear? — I  mean,  Miss  Page." 

"No,  except  that  I  shall  miss  your  companion 
ship,  and  the  confidence  you  inspire  in  me, — Mrs. 
Smith." 

Here  General  Kelly's  orderly  came  to  announce 
that  an  ambulance  would  be  ready  to  take  the 
ladies  at  daybreak,  and  would  they  mind  sharing 
their  room  for  the  night  with  a  lady  and  her  three 
children,  on  their  way  to  Charlestown? 

The  remainder  of  Gertrude's  journey  was  com 
paratively  uneventful,  though  it  did  seem  odd  at 
one  point  to  have  the  Federal  cavalrymen  who 
escorted  the  ambulance  called  into  requisition  to 
protect  her  against  Southern  stragglers,  as  they 
neared  the  lines.  She  was  still  nominally  a 
Federal  prisoner.  Nearing  Winchester,  a  sentry 
demanded  the  young  lady's  papers. 

"I  have  no  papers,  and  need  none,"  she  an 
swered.  "  I  am  at  home  now.  I  am  Miss  Elling- 


Shenandoah's  Daughter          135 

ham,  and  I  am  going  to  Belle  Bosquet.  My 
brother  is  in  General  Jackson's  First  Brigade." 

The  Federal  captain  who  had  escorted  her 
opened  his  eyes  at  this  and  said : 

"I  am  sorry  to  release  you,  Miss  What  's-your- 
name.  You  might  have  more  chance  for  enjoy 
ment  if  you  were  to  remain  North.  I  mean,"  he 
added,  catching  a  dangerous  gleam  in  Gertrude's 
eye,  "that  you  must  find  it  dull  in  the  South,  with 
no  beaux,  nor  nothing." 

"Our  beaux  are  in  the  field,  where  they  belong, 
sir,"  retorted  the  girl,  haughtily. 

The  captain  bowed  gallantly,  and  made  his 
adieux.  Then  Gertrude  asked  the  gray-coated 
sentry  where  General  Jackson's  army  was  located 
at  the  moment. 

"Lawd  bless  you,  Miss,  nobody  knows.  He 
mought  be  in  Richmond  by  now,  or  he  mought  be 
in  Washington.  They  do  say  as  how  a  letter  come 
along,  once,  addressed  to  '  Gineral  Jackson,  Some 
where,'  and  he  got  it  at  Woodstock.  But  that 
was  'way  back,  two  weeks  ago." 


CHAPTER  X 

GRAPEVINE  TELEGRAPH 

"Coeur-de-Lions  on  every  field, 

Sweet  saints  in  every  home, 
Through  whose  dear  helping  stood  revealed 

The  joy  of  martyrdom  — 
Compassed  by  whose  assuring  loves, 

Our  comrades  dared  and  died 
As  blithely  as  a  bridegroom  moves 

To  meet  his  glowing  bride." 


.  HAVERILL,  the  Colonel's  wife,  had  an 
anxious  and  busy  time  of  it  in  Washington. 
Seeing  little  of  her  husband,  and  that  little  at 
moments  when  he  was  overworked  and  morose, 
she  found  congenial  distraction  in  the  companion 
ship  of  Edith  Haverill,  Frank's  wife  —  for  what  the 
fugitive  had  told  Kerchival  West  at  Charleston 
was  confirmed  when  the  elder  Mrs.  Haverill  went 
to  New  York  and  found  the  unfortunate  young 
woman  suffering  in  silence,  full  of  loyalty,  courage 
and  gratitude,  but  in  reality  knowing  no  more 
about  Frank's  whereabouts  than  anyone  else  did. 
At  the  warm  insistence  of  the  Haverills,  Edith 

came  on  to  Washington  and  took  up  her  home  with 

136 


Grapevine  Telegraph  137 

them.  Here  her  baby  boy  was  born,  and  they 
christened  him  after  his  father,  so  that  the  name  of 
Frank  Haverill  should  still  be  familiarly  spoken 
in  the  household.  Then  the  two  women,  like  so 
many  others  both  of  gentle  birth  and  of  lowly 
station,  but  above  all  sisters  in  affliction,  engaged 
in  the  work  of  ministering  to  the  sick  and  wounded 
soldiers  who  filled  the  wards  of  the  improvised 
hospitals  in  the  Patent  Office  building  and  else 
where. 

At  irregular  intervals  during  the  year,  Edith 
had  received  sums  of  money  from  an  anonymous 
source,  carefully  concealed,  but  somewhere  in  the 
Army.  She  knew  it  was  from  her  husband;  but 
the  only  time  any  word  accompanied  the  envoi  was 
shortly  after  the  birth  of  her  baby,  when  a  brief 
loving  message  filled  the  young  mother's  heart  with 
joy  and  gratitude.  This  communication  afforded 
no  tangible  clew  as  to  the  writer's  whereabouts, 
but  it  was  the  means  of  setting  on  foot  a  system 
atic  search  on  the  part  of  Colonel  Haverill,  who 
beneath  a  mask  of  Spartan  indifference  had  in 
reality  rejoiced  at  hearing  of  his  son's  resolution 
to  make  atonement  by  enlisting  as  a  soldier,  as 
reported  by  Kerchival  West  after  the  farewell 
secret  interview  at  Charleston,  a  year  ago. 

Knowing  that  Columbia  College,   New  York 


138  Shenandoah 

City,  had  furnished  a  large  number  of  recruits  to 
the  local  volunteer  regiments,  at  the  first  call  of 
President  Lincoln,  Colonel  Haverill  directed  his 
inquiries  among  such  of  Frank's  former  classmates 
as  he  could  locate  in  the  army.  He  was  successful 
to  the  extent  of  ascertaining  that  his  son  had  taken 
special  pains,  in  enlisting,  to  avoid  any  possible 
comradeship  with  those  who  knew  of  his  disgrace. 
Under  an  assumed  name,  he  had  in  all  probability 
gone  South  and  joined  the  Union  Army  of  the 
Missouri. 

With  sinking  heart,  Colonel  Haverill  thought 
of  the  unknown  dead  of  the  great  battle  of  Shiloh, 
on  the  far  Tennessee.  And  then,  remembering 
that  all  evidences  of  his  son's  existence,  in  so  far 
as  the  anxious  young  wife  and  mother  in  Washing 
ton  were  concerned,  had  ceased  some  months 
back,  he  only  shook  his  head  when  Edith  and  Mrs. 
Haverill  asked  him  daily  if  he  had  learned  any 
tidings. 

The  Colonel  and  his  wife  were  none  the  less  fond 
of  their  Southern  wards,  Gertrude  and  Robert 
Ellingham,  now  that  of  necessity  they  no  longer 
stood  towards  them  in  loco  parentis.  Whatever 
stern  military  aloofness  the  Federal  military  officer 
may  have  felt  obligatory  upon  him,  was  compen 
sated  by  a  new  tenderness  on  the  part  of  Mrs. 


Grapevine  Telegraph  139 

Haverill,  particularly  towards  Gertrude,  whom 
she  regarded  as  the  innocent  victim  of  a  most 
unfortunate  political  misunderstanding.  This  feel 
ing  Gertrude  reciprocated,  and  equally  without  a 
suspicion  of  resentment. 

Mrs.  Haverill  and  Gertrude,  as  has  been  inti 
mated,  maintained  a  practically  continuous  corre 
spondence.  Gertrude  wrote  regularly  to  her  Con 
federate  brother,  Robert  Ellingham.  Madeline 
West,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Mason  and  Dixon 
line,  also  wrote  to  Robert,  her  "Rebel"  sweetheart, 
in  a  non-partisan  way,  which  also  was  quite 
different  from  sisterly.  Of  course  Bob  wrote  to 
both  the  girls,  and  it  would  have  been  highly 
embarrassing  if  he  had  ever  got  the  epistles  mixed. 
Madeline  answered  the  copious  letters  and  inqui 
ries  of  her  brother,  Kerchival  West,  as  best  she 
could.  Jenny  Buckthorn  was  heard  to  remark 
that  Captain  Heartsease's  pen  was  mightier  than 
his  sword,  so  there  must  have  been  some  epistolary 
interchange  between  these  two,  also,  when  the 
Captain  was  away  from  Washington.  As  for  Gen 
eral  Buckthorn,  still  at  home  slowly  recovering 
from  his  wound,  and  Colonel  Haverill,  preoccupied 
with  active  military  responsibilities,  these  two  old 
soldiers  stuck  doggedly  to  their  respective  duties, 
and  kept  their  own  counsel. 


140  Shenandoah 

Such  was  the  complicated,  unorganized  system 
of  "grapevine  telegraph,"  which  in  Civil  War  time 
practically  did  the  service  of  what  in  latter  days 
would  be  called  the  wireless. 

Gertrude  had  been  home  in  the  Valley  perhaps 
a  fortnight,  when  she  received  the  following 
illuminative  epistle  from  her  brother: 

"  CHARLOTTESVILLE,  June  15,  1862. 
"DEAREST  SISTER: 

4 '  We  have  left  the  Valley,  I  suppose  to  join 
in  the  defence  of  Richmond.  You  know  what 
that  means ,  under  Jackson — this  is  the  first  mo 
ment  I  have  found  to  write  to  you  since  you  de 
cided  to  quit  for  home.  I  know  what  you  have 
passed  through,  but  do  you  know  how  it  came 
about  that  you  got  through  as  luckily  as  you  did? 
Probably  not.  Now  I  will  tell  you.  It  was  all  very 
well  for  the  Richmond  department  to  send  you  in 
certain  company  by  way  of  Baltimore — but  when 
it  came  to  the  pinch  at  Harper's  Ferry,  influence 
at  Washington  had  to  be  brought  to  bear. 
Whose  influence?  General  Buckthorn's.  Gen 
eral  Buckthorn  must  have  acted  at  the  prompting 
of  some  other  Federal  officer ,  presumably  Colonel 
H.  And  how  did  our  dear  Colonel  happen  to  be 
so  alert  in  behalf  of  a  couple  of  Southern  women 
travelling  at  their  own  risk? 


Grapevine  Telegraph  141 

' '  Gertrude,  Kerchival  W.  is — or  was — in  Wash 
ington,  either  on  sick  leave  or  on  some  confiden 
tial  mission.  He  must  have  moved  heaven  and 
earth,  and  even  strained  a  point  or  two  of  dis 
cipline,  for  your  sake.  I  don't  know  the  exact 
circumstances,  but  I  do  know  old  Kerchival, 
God  bless  him — he  can't  help  it  if  he  is  a  Yank! 

1 '  Now  you  know  what  he  did  for  you,  and  per 
haps  you  will  understand  the  ugly  look  it  must 
have  taken  for  him  at  Washington  when  I  tell  you 
that  your  dangerous  travelling  campanion  took 
advantage  of  the  situation  to  wheedle  the  Federal 
guard  at  Berryville  into  making  an  exchange  of 
prisoners  with  our  guard,  and  thus  rescued  a  certain 
Secret  Service  officer  whom  you  and  I  know  only 
too  well,  and  who  is  now  back  again  in  the 
Confederate  service.  What  is  to  come  of  it  all ,  I 
don't  know.  But,  for  God's  sake,  Sis,  be  careful 
— keep  this  closely  to  yourself,  and  never  forget  it. 

"When  you  will  next  hear  from  me,  and  what 
you  will  hear,  no  mortal  can  predict, — except 
that  I  shall  be  found  in  the  line  of  duty.  May 
heaven  bless  and  keep  us  all,  is  the  constant 

prayer  of  your  errant  brother, 

"BOB." 

While  Gertrude  Ellingham  read  and  reread  and 
pondered  and  cried  over  this  letter,  and  kissed  it 


142  Shenandoah 

furtively  as  if  in  concealment  from  her  very  self, 
the  five  army  corps  of  General  McClellan,  having 
encountered  the  defensive  Confederate  forces  now 
under  direct  command  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee, 
had  fought  the  indecisive  battle  of  Fair  Oaks, 
otherwise  called  Seven  Pines,  and  were  lined  up 
along  the  Chickahominy  stream,  almost  within 
gunshot  of  Richmond. 

They  thought  Lee  had  detached  a  corps  and 
sent  it  westward  to  reinforce  Jackson  in  the  Valley. 
Instead,  Jackson  was  sweeping  eastward  to  join 
Lee — who  now,  more  than  a  year  after  the  com 
mencement  of  the  war,  was  at  last  to  take  active 
command  of  a  large  army  in  the  field. 

In  that  year,  the  great  conflict  had  grown  in 
proportion  and  intensity,  covering  widely  sepa 
rated  territories,  and  drawing  more  and  more  men, 
from  all  sections,  into  the  maelstrom.  The  main 
successes  in  actual  battle  thus  far  seemed  to  have 
been  won  by  Southern  arms ;  but  they  were  costly 
in  comparison  with  their  results,  which  were  to 
strengthen  the  confidence  of  the  Confederates 
perhaps  unduly  in  proportion  to  their  resources, 
while  taxing  the  North  to  the  utmost  in  putting 
bigger  armies  in  the  field,  and  more  formidable 
gun-boats  on  the  waters.  Apropos  of  the  latter, 
another  instance  of  President  Lincoln's  staunch- 


Grapevine  Telegraph  143 

ness  in  the  crises  where  it  was  most  needed,  im 
pressed  itself  upon  the  country. 

The  Confederates  had  taken  a  gun-boat  named 
the  Merrimac,  in  the  Norfolk  Navy  Yard,  pro 
tected  her  entire  works  above  the  water  line  with 
railroad  iron  fearfully  and  wonderfully  stacked, 
and  then  turned  her  loose,  an  armor-clad  monster 
of  destruction,  upon  the  comparatively  defenceless 
wooden  war-vessels  of  the  Federal  navy.  The 
whole  country  gasped  with  the  excitement  of  a 
new  sensation.  Washington  was  nonplussed,  and 
the  Northern  seaboard  cities  were  panic-stricken. 
What  was  to  prevent  this  new  terror  of  the  seas 
from  putting  the  whole  Navy  out  of  commission, 
and  then  entering  the  defenceless  harbors  of  Phila 
delphia,  New  York,  and  Boston,  to  bombard  or 
levy  tribute  at  will?  Delegations  of  bankers  and 
commercial  magnates  swarmed  to  the  National 
Capital  to  see  the  President  about  it,  until  the 
approaches  to  the  White  House  were  black  with 
frock-coats  and  shiny  "toppers." 

Mr.  Lincoln  listened  in  his  whimsical  way  while 
spokesmen  dilated  upon  the  jeopardy  in  which 
they  and  their  uncounted  millions  were  placed, 
unless  they  should  be  promptly  protected,  in  pro 
portion  to  the  liberality  with  which  they  had  sub 
scribed  to  the  Government  bonds. 


144  Shenandoah 

Mr.  Lincoln  professed  astonishment  at  such 
vast  interests  and  so  much  money  being  owned  or 
represented  by  so  comparatively  few  people. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  finally,  "we  have  no 
ships  to  send  to  New  York.  We  have  no  guns  to 
mount  on  your  forts.  We  have  no  money  to  spare ; 
and  the  whole  credit  and  means  of  the  Government 
are  exhausted  in  doing  what  we  can  to  protect  this 
Capital,  and  the  interior  and  coast  line  that  it  is 
our  first  business  to  look  after.  But  if  I  had  as 
much  money  as  you  say  you  have,  and  were  as 
badly  skeered  as  evidently  you  are,  I  think  I  would 
find  some  means  with  which  to  protect  my  own 
town,  at  least." 

In  less  than  three  months  from  that  day,  Erics 
son's  Monitor,  the  uncanny  little  floating  fort 
facetiously  described  at  the  time  as  "a  cheese-box 
on  a  raft,"  slipped  out  of  New  York  Harbor  and 
down  to  Hampton  Roads,  and  at  first  encounter 
battered  the  Merrimac  out  of  all  further  usefulness 
for  any  save  a  passive  career. 

What  both  North  and  South  most  needed  at 
that  period  was  not  men,  so  much  as  A  MAN — a 
compeller  of  decisive  victories  on  hard-fought 
fields.  With  the  exception  of  Jackson  on  the  one 
hand  and  McClellan  on  the  other,  neither  side  had 
developed  a  commander  of  heroic  stature  whom  a 


Grapevine  Telegraph  145 

whole  people  could  trust  or  a  whole  army  follow 
blindfold.  Lee  and  Jackson,  McClellan  and 
McDowell,  were  yet  to  measure  their  full  strength 
against  each  other.  Down  in  the  Southwest,  in 
the  Union  Army  of  the  Tennessee,  an  Illinois 
soldier  from  Lincoln's  own  State,  Ulysses  S.  Grant 
by  name,  had  begun  to  emerge  into  notice  by  rea 
son  of  certain  meritorious  successes  at  Forts  Henry 
and  Donelson.  But  then  came  Shiloh,  or  Pitts 
burgh  Landing,  the  first  really  great  battle  of  the 
Civil  War,  in  which  Grant  was  surprised  and  out- 
generalled  by  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  and  with 
his  shattered  army  might  have  been  driven  to  de 
struction  in  the  Tennessee  River,  had  not  the  Con 
federate  commander  fallen  in  the  first  day's  battle, 
enabling  the  Union  forces,  with  the  help  of  General 
Buell,  to  retrieve  themselves  just  short  of  a  rout. 
It  was  a  desperate  and  costly  struggle,  discourag 
ing  to  both  sides,  as  foreshadowing  only  too  cer 
tainly  the  terrible  sacrifices  which  the  prolongation 
of  the  war  between  the  sections  was  destined  to 
entail.  They  were  lavish  of  blood  in  those  days,  and 
soldiers  as  brave  as  ever  fought  on  earth  thought 
it  a  right  and  worthy  sacrifice  to  charge  a  battery 
of  artillery  or  line  of  earthworks  with  infantry. 

General   McClellan,   on    the   threshold   of  his 
grand   opportunity   at    the  gates  of   Richmond, 


146  Shenandoah 

opened  his  assault  upon  Lee's  lines  of  defence 
at  Beaver  Dam,  near  Mechanicsville,  on  the 
Chickahominy.  It  was  the  first  of  the  Seven 
Days'  Battles,  soon  to  go  into  history.  The 
day  was  one  of  Confederate  reverses,  the  princi 
pal  cause  of  which  was  subsequently  seen  to  be 
chargeable  to  none  other  than  General  Jackson, 
and  in  a  way  oddly  related  to  that  same  march 
from  the  Valley  during  which  Bob  Ellingham  had 
paused  at  Charlottesville  to  write  to  his  sister 
Gertrude. 

Jackson,  as  it  appeared,  had  gone  ahead  in 
advance  of  his  army,  accompanied  only  by  his 
chief  of  staff — who,  characteristically,  was  not  a 
soldier  by  profession,  but  a  Presbyterian  minister 
and  professor  in  a  theological  seminary.  On  the 
Sunday  morning  of  that  eventful  week,  the  two 
fighting  Presbyterians  found  themselves  at  a  way 
station  on  the  Central  Railroad  (the  Chesapeake 
and  Ohio  of  latter  days),  somewhat  more  than 
fifty  miles  from  Richmond.  They  decided  to 
remember  the  Sabbath  day  and  keep  it  holy — 
though  on  other  occasions,  before  and  subse 
quently,  Stonewall  had  regarded  the  duty  of 
fighting  as  paramount  to  all  others — so  they 
stopped  over  and  attended  camp  services  with 
some  of  the  troops  stationed  there.  Inasmuch  as 


Grapevine  Telegraph  147 

the  General  was  using  elaborate  precautions  to 
keep  his  whereabouts  and  destination  a  secret,  he 
deemed  it  unadvisable  to  go  the  rest  of  his  jour 
ney  by  rail.  Accordingly,  at  one  o'clock  Monday 
morning,  he  mounted  a  horse,  and,  accompanied 
by  a  single  courier,  rode  the  whole  distance  to  Lee's 
headquarters  near  Richmond,  arriving  at  Ashland 
about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  Lee's  orders 
for  the  second  day's  attack  upon  McClellanhad 
been  calculated  so  closely,  that  when  Jackson, 
fagged  with  loss  of  sleep  and  his  all-night  ride, 
finally  "swept  down  the  north  side  of  the  Chick- 
ahominy"  with  his  troops  to  join  A.  P.  Hill,  he 
was  practically  a  day  behind  time. 

There  was  fierce  fighting  every  day  that  week — 
at  Games'  Mill,  Savage  Station,  Glendale,  all 
through  the  dark  and  desolate  White  Oak  Swamp 
and  along  the  sluggish,  noisome  Chickahominy. 
Jackson,  in  his  old-time  fighting  form  again,  in  the 
field  with  Lee,  Stuart,  and  Longstreet,  strove  to 
make  up  for  lost  time,  and  did  his  full  share  in 
forcing  the  enemy  steadily  back  from  Richmond. 
But  that  enemy  was  McClellan,  a  foe  of  different 
calibre  from  any  the  Virginians  hitherto  had  faced. 
McClellan  was,  indeed,  doggedly  falling  back 
towards  the  James  River ;  but  as  soon  as  he  got  into 
communication  with  the  Federal  gun-boats  on  that 


148  Shenandoah 

stream,  he  concentrated  his  artillery  on  Malvern 
Hill,  and  made  a  stand  which  demonstrated  that 
his  so-called  "change  of  base"  from  the  York  to 
the  James  River,  whatever  necessity  may  have 
dictated  it,  was  as  a  military  movement  executed 
in  masterly  fashion.  The  siege  of  Richmond  was 
raised,  and  the  Confederates  had  to  be  satisfied 
with  that  result  of  the  Seven  Days'  Battles.  The 
destruction  of  the  Federal  army,  which  General 
Lee  had  thought  under  ordinary  circumstances 
should  have  been  a  logical  possibility,  was  averted 
when  his  adversary,  after  protecting  his  shattered 
ranks  against  every  assault  with  the  fury  of  des 
peration,  succeeded  by  sheer  skill  and  soldiership 
in  withdrawing  them  from  the  sanguinary  slopes 
of  Malvern  Hill  to  the  shelter  of  the  Federal 
gunboats  at  Harrison's  Landing  on  the  James 
River. 

Amidst  the  horrors  of  that  retreat, — in  which 
were  included  thousands  of  sick  and  wounded  who 
could  not  have  stirred  but  for  the  dread  of  the 
tobacco  warehouses  in  which  the  Southerners 
penned  their  prisoners  of  war — a  young  lieutenant 

clad  in  the  remnants  of  a  blue  uniform  which  at 
i 

first  opportunity  he  exchanged  with  a  dead  soldier 
for  a  suit  of  dingy  gray,  crept  off  into  the  thickets 
along  the  Willis  Church  road,  on  the  slope  of  the 


Col.  West. — "  During  all  this  terrible  war,  . 
dreamed  of  a  meeting  like  this." 
Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 


I  have 


Grapevine  Telegraph  149 

hill.  Parched  with  fever  and  crippled  with  a 
wounded  foot,  he  lay  there  all  night  in  the  feverish 
damps,  then  pressed  on  at  daybreak  in  what  he 
thought  to  be  the  direction  in  which  the  Federal 
troops  had  moved  off  the  night  before. 

As  he  drew  near  what  looked  like  a  deserted 
cabin  in  a  lonely  gulch,  an  old,  dilapidated-looking 
negro  ran  out,  and,  glancing  at  the  fugitive's  uni 
form,  implored  him  to  "jest  send  a  'spatch  to 
Charleston  that  ole  Marster  was  sick  and  los'  in 
de  wilderness,  an'  den  mebbe  somebody  would 
send  or  come  to  git  him." 

The  young  wayfarer  would  have  been  glad  to 
get  off  a  despatch  somewhere  else  in  his  own 
behalf;  but  that  signified  nothing — he  followed 
the  gaunt  old  negro  into  the  cabin. 

There,  on  a  bed  of  juniper  boughs,  lay  gasping 
and  choking  a  Confederate  soldier  with  a  ghastly 
bullet-hole  in  his  forehead,  and  the  stamp  of  death 
on  his  livid  face.  An  elderly,  gray-haired  man, 
evidently  a  surgeon,  knelt  on  the  ground  and  made 
feeble  efforts  to  minister  to  the  comfort  of  the 
dying  one,  while  his  own  teeth  chattered  and  his 
hands  shook  with  ague. 

"Dat's  Doctor  Ellingham,"  the  negro  whis 
pered,  "and  he  's  one  of  de  richest  men  in  Charles 
ton,  when  he  's  home.  But  we  ain't  got  no  money 


1 50  Shenandoah 

now,  and  here 's  poor  Sam  Pinckney  shot — I 
reckon  de  Yanks  have  done  for  him,  sho'.  De 
Doctor's  a  little  bit  out  of  his  haid,  too,  on  'count 
of  de  fever,  but  he  reckoned  he  'd  stick  to  Sam, 
an'  of  co'se  I  sticks  to  de  Doctor." 

"Pete,"  said  Dr.  Ellingham,  in  his  dazed  way, 
"you  might  ask  the  gentleman  if  he  has  anything 
besides  water  in  his  canteen." 

The  young  man  drew  a  small  wicker  flask  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  it  over.  The  surgeon 
reached  out  a  shaking  hand,  then  said : 

"You  had  better  give  him  a  little — you  are 
steadier  than  I  am." 

Here  the  wounded  man  made  a  sound  as  if 
choking. 

"Mebbe  it's  phlegm  in  his  throat,"  said  the 
faithful  old  slave.  He  poked  a  black  finger  into 
the  poor  fellow's  mouth,  and  pulled  out  a  quid  of 
tobacco,  that  must  have  been  there  ever  since 
Sam  was  shot.  Then  a  small  quantity  of  liquor 
was  poured  between  the  pallid  lips,  but  the  case 
seemed  hopeless. 

At  that  instant,  loud  voices  were  heard  outside, 
and  then  a  Confederate  captain  and  two  soldiers 
rushed  into  the  cabin. 

"Ah,  here  they  are!"  shouted  the  captain. 
"Major  Ellingham,  I  've  been  searching  for  you 


Grapevine  Telegraph  151 

everywhere.  You  should  n't  have  left  the  ambu 
lance,  in  your  condition.  Pete,  you  black  scoun 
drel,  is  that  the  way  you  take  care  of  your  master?" 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,  Captain  Thornton," 
said  Dr.  Ellingham,  feebly.  "Here  is  Sam  Pinck- 
ney  in  very  bad  shape." 

"And  whom  have  we  here?"  asked  the  captain, 
staring  at  the  young  stranger  who  had  proffered 
the  flask,  and  paying  no  attention  to  the  wounded 
man. 

"Great  God!  Ed.  Thornton— I  thought  I 
knew  you!"  exclaimed  the  young  man  addressed, 
peering  into  the  insolent,  scarred  face  of  his  ques 
tioner.  "And  I  presume  you  know  me,  as  well." 

"I  know  you  're  in  a  pretty  ticklish  position, 
with  that  Union  belt  on  under  a  Confederate  uni 
form,  and  inside  our  lines.  Men,  search  your 
prisoner.  He  's  a  Yankee  spy." 

"That 's  a  lie,  Thornton,  and  you  know  it.  I 
was  in  the  fight  open  and  fair,  and  I  would  n't  be 
here  now,  only  that  I  stopped  to  try  and  help  your 
comrades.  Let  me  alone,  I  say!" 

He  struggled  so  fiercely  despite  his  weak  con 
dition,  that  the  efforts  of  the  two  soldiers  were 
required  to  hold  him,  while  Thornton  minutely 
searched  his  person. 

"Letters — Washington   and   New   York   post- 


152  Shenandoah 

marks — and Ah!  what  have  we  here?     Pretty 

little  sentimental  keepsake,  eh?  Where  have  I 
seen  the  lady's  face?  Pardon  me  if  I  read  this 
inscription  on  the  back  of  the  case." 

What  he  had  found  was  a  miniature,  the  portrait 
of  a  lady,  carefully  protected  in  a  morocco  case. 
The  owner  resisted  so  desperately  the  taking  of 
this  treasure,  that  he  finally  sank  to  the  floor,  livid, 
panting,  foaming  and  cursing,  as  Captain  Thorn 
ton  mockingly  read  the  lines  inscribed  on  the  back 
of  the  picture: 

' '  The  flashing  light  may  liven  thy  form 

In  living  lines  of  breathing  grace, 
May  give  each  tint  a  tone  as  warm 

As  that  which  melts  o  'er  thy  dear  face; 
But  in  my  soul  and  on  my  heart 

With  deeper  colors,  truer  aim, 
A  loftier  power  than  meagre  art 

Hath  graved  thy  image  and  thy  name. ' ' 

"He  is  dead,"  said  Dr.  Ellingham,  letting  the 
hand  of  poor  Sam  Pinckney,  which  he  had  been 
holding,  fall  limp  and  lifeless  to  the  ground. 

"Well,  Major,  that  relieves  you  from  duty  here — 
I  '11  have  an  ambulance  sent  around  at  once.  As 
for  the  Yankee  gentleman,  I  will  take  good  care 
of  his  valuables,  while  he  is  escorted  to  Richmond 
and  put  up  at  the  Hotel  de  Libby." 

With  these  taunting  words,  Captain  Thornton 


Grapevine  Telegraph  153 

laughed  diabolically,  then  lit  a  cigar,  and  stood  in 
the  doorway  of  the  cabin  gazing  reminiscently 
upon  the  miniature,  which  held  the  fair  features  of 
Mrs.  Constance  Haverill. 


CHAPTER  XI 

LIBBY  PRISON 

"In  the  prison  cell  I  sit, 

Thinking,  mother  dear,  of  you, 
And  the  bright  and  happy  home  so  far  away; 

And  the  tears  they  fill  my  eyes, 

Spite  of  all  that  I  can  do, 
Though  I  try  to  cheer  my  comrades  and  be  gay." 


'"THE  tobacco  warehouse  of  the  Libbys,  down 
*  on  Carey  Street,  near  the  James  River,  was 
the  largest  structure  of  its  kind  in  Richmond.  It 
was  a  vast,  dingy,  four-storied  red  brick  building, 
with  nothing  but  naked  walls,  bare  timbers  and 
low-raftered  drying  rooms  whose  small  windows 
were  not  intended  primarily  to  admit  light.  A 
few  iron  bars  on  these  windows,  and  a  flimsy  par 
tition  here  and  there  to  divide  the  floor  space  into 
"rooms,"  had  sufficed  to  transform  the  pungent- 
smelling  old  shell  into  a  capacious  military  prison 
for  Federal  captives  whose  official  rank  saved  them 
from  the  unsheltered  pens  and  stockades  of  Belle 

Isle,  or  of  Salisbury  and  Andersonville  further 

154 


Libby  Prison  155 

South.  Only  officers  were  immured  in  Libby 
Prison,  and  most  of  the  time  there  were  from  fif 
teen  hundred  to  two  thousand  motley,  ragged, 
pale-faced  men  pining  here,  cramped  and  squalid, 
and  liable  to  be  shot  down  relentlessly  if  they 
crossed  a  "dead  line"  within  two  or  three  feet  of 
the  barred  windows.  Some  of  these  poor  fellows 
listlessly  carved  crucifixes  and  wooden  toys  with 
their  jack-knives,  others  played  cards,  squatted  on 
the  floor,  or  checkers  on  boards  marked  off  in  rude 
squares  on  these  same  rough,  unswept  planks.  All 
hoped  against  hope,  and  conversed  endlessly  on 
two  topics — "exchange,"  and  "escape." 

Tidings  from  the  outside  world  floated  in  only 
vaguely — but  the  prisoners  always  knew  when  a 
battle  had  taken  place,  especially  if  it  had  gone 
against  their  old  comrades  of  the  Federal  army, 
as  in  such  case  numbers  of  these  comrades  were 
liable  to  be  marched  unceremoniously  into  the 
"coop,"  and  assigned  to  the  "Potomac  room,"  or 
the  "  Shenandoah  room,"  or  the  "  Manassas  room," 
as  the  case  might  be.  The  exchanges  hoped  for 
had  never  yet  come  about,  so  far  as  anyone  incar 
cerated  in  Libby  could  affirm.  Various  attempts 
at  escape  had  ended  either  in  tragedy  or  in  more 
stringent  guard  regulations  calculated  to  make  the 
abject  misery  of  prison  existence  complete.  There 


156  Shenandoah 

were  counter  charges  and  recriminations  between 
North  and  South,  the  executive  authorities  on 
either  side  blaming  the  other  for  refusing  reason 
able  conditions  upon  which  a  mutual,  equitable 
understanding  could  be  reached.  War  at  best 
was  an  infernal  business,  they  intimated ;  and  with 
this  inexorable  proposition  the  poor  fellows  lan 
guishing  behind  the  bars  and  stockades  most  cor 
dially  agreed.  Meanwhile,  they  did  the  best  they 
could  to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  and  deadly 
despair  at  bay,  and  the  flickering  spark  of  hope 
alive. 

Letters  from  home  were  rare,  gifts  and  provi 
sions  still  rarer.  Nevertheless,  some  fortuitous 
combination  of  circumstances  and  outcropping  of 
ordinary  human  kindness  did  on  certain  mem 
orable  occasions  permit  a  suit  of  clothes  or  a  box 
of  sweets  and  other  creature  comforts  to  escape 
Confederate  confiscation  and  get  past  the  draw 
bridge  of  the  military  Bastille. 

One  of  these  occasions  that  brought  seasonable 
rejoicings  to  a  certain  loft  of  Libby,  occurred  just 
before  the  date  of  National  Thanksgiving,  in  the 
latter  part  of  November. 

The  blood-red  rays  of  sunset  were  streaming 
through  the  one  small,  high,  grated  window  that 
lighted  a  bare  room  where  some  men  were  deject- 


Libby  Prison  157 

edly  playing  cards  for  scraps  of  tobacco,  while 
others  sat  around  on  rough  benches  and  watched, 
or  smoked,  or  dozed.  One,  who  was  either  sick  or 
wounded,  lay  on  a  couch,  with  a  coarse  blanket 
over  him.  Two  or  three  of  the  card-players  joined 
their  unmelodious  voices  in  crooning  an  old- 
fashioned  Methodist  hymn. 

"That 's  right,  boys,"  said  the  hymn-leader, 
an  unctuous-looking  Hoosier  whom  they  addressed 
sometimes  as  "Chaplain,"  and  again  as  "Dea 
con," — "cheer  up  a  bit.  If  you  can't  be  cheerful, 
be  as  cheerful  as  you  can.  Think — think  of  your 
heavenly  home." 

"Too  far  off,"  muttered  Captain  Cox,  a  Ken- 
tuckian. 

"  Well,  then,  think  of  your  earthly  home — of  the 
apple-trees  in  blossom  when  you  left  it — of  the 
afternoon  sunlight  fallin'  on  it  this  minute,  out 
there  in  Kentuck,  or  Ohio,  or  wherever  it  is. 
Mine  's  in  Injiana,  thank  God !  I  remember  when 
I  was " 

"Deacon,"  protested  the  sick  man,  "I  'm  not 
feeling  very  chipper,  to-day." 

"Oh,  you'll  come  'round  all  right.  To-mor 
row's  Thanksgiving.  As  I  was  saying, " 

"That 's  what  poor  Ralph's  afraid  of,  Deacon," 
interposed  Captain  Cox.  "Monotony  is  what 's 


158  Shenandoah 

killing  him,  and  I  '11  leave  it  to  you  if  the  novelty 
is  n't  long  since  worn  off  those  endless  remi 
niscences  of  the  time  when  you  used  to  be " 

"Rear-admiral  on  the  Wabash  Canal!"  chimed 
the  chorus. 

"All  right,  boys — poke  all  the  fun  at  me  you 
like — smite  me  on  the  other  cheek.  You  know 
I  'm  meek  and  lowly. — Darn  this  hand  o'  cards, 
anyway! — But  with  all  your  cuteness,  I  '11  bet  five 
dollars  none  o'  you  can  tell  how  we  used  to  take  in 
sail,  out  there  on  the  Wabash.  Hey?" 

"I  'm  a  landsman,  Deacon,  but  I  'm  not 
ashamed  to  learn  navigation  even  from  a  former 
deck-hand  on  Noah's  ark.  How  do  they  take  in 
sail  on  the  Wabash,  anyway?  " 

"Well,  sir,  they  go  out  aloft  on  the  tow-path, 
and  knock  down  a  mule." 

"Ho,  ho!  how's  that,  Ralph?"  laughed  Cox, 
rising  and  going  over  to  the  sick  man's  couch. 
"  Come !  brighten  up.  Are  you  sick  in  mind,  too?  " 

Hunt  sighed,  impatiently.  Deacon  Hart  ral 
lied  again. 

"Look  on  the  bright  side — what  may  happen 
any  minnit.  Suppose,  first  thing  you  know,  you 
git  called  out  and  exchanged,  jest  as  soon  as  our 
army  captures  some  Rebel  prisoners — if  it  ever 
does.  Then  you  can  go  home  on  crutches,  and  the 


Libby  Prison  159 

neighbors  '11  bring  in  a  dozen  different  things  at 
once  to  kill  or  cure  you." 

"I  don't  seem  to  care  about  anything,"  said 
Ralph  Hunt,  gloomily.  ' '  If  I  can't  die  on  the  field, 
it  may  as  well  be  here  as  anywhere  else." 

"It 's  a  good  thing  I  'm  here  to  give  you  spiri 
tual  counsel,"  interjected  Deacon  Hart,  turning 
away  from  his  cards  for  a  second.  "Oh — is  it  my 
deal?" 

Captain  Cox  sat  beside  Hunt's  couch,  and  con 
versed  with  him  in  low,  earnest  tones. 

"There  are  other  places,"  said  he,  "besides  the 
field  of  battle,  where  a  man  can  be  brave." 

"Oh,  no  doubt,"  was  the  bitter  reply.  "You 
find  it  easy  to  keep  up  your  courage,  when  I  am 
in  despair." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  know.  We  were  boys  together,  and  I 
have  always  put  tip  with  second  best.  You  've 
always  stood  in  front  of  me,  Tom  Cox — at  school, 
at  sport,  in  business,  in  love." 

"  Hold  on,  Ralph!    You  're  going  too  far." 

"Not  beyond  the  truth." 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  urged  Cox.  "Have  I 
ever  played  you  false?" 

"No,  you  haven't.  You  haven't  needed  to. 
Your  cursed,  fatal  good  luck  does  it  all  for  you." 


160  Shenandoah 

"Now  you  talk  like  a  whining  child." 
"No,  I  don't.  At  this  moment,  your  heart's 
inmost  thought  is  identical  with  mine.  Marie 
Mason — great  God!  how  my  heart  beats  at  the 
speaking  of  that  name! — Marie — she  was  the  one 
woman  in  all  the  world  to  me.  Why  did  you  cross 
my  path  there,  too,  when  it  was  as  sure  as  fate 
that  her  preference  would  fall  on  you?" 

"If  it  was  fate,  what 's  the  use  of  talking  about 
it  now?"  retorted  Cox,  doggedly.  "And  to  what 
avail  to  either  of  us,  now,  can  that  girl's  favor  be? 
You  know  she  is  an  irrevocable  Southerner,  like 
all  the  rest  of  her  family.  You  know  that  I  came 
out  for  the  Union,  as  you  did,  when  the  first  gun 
was  fired  on  Sumter.  Perhaps  you  don't  know, 
but  I  will  tell  you  now,  that  when  I  left  Lexington, 
she — Marie  Mason — said  she  would  rather  see  me 
lying  dead  on  the  battlefield,  wearing  the  Southern 
gray,  than  marching  against  her  people  in  the  blue 
uniform  of  the  North.  That  was  our  parting. 
Well,  you  and  I  have  drunk  from  the  same  canteen, 
we  have  fought  side  by  side,  in  the  same  battles, 
we  have  both  won  our  captain's  swords — and  lost 
them.  Now  in  misfortune  we  are  still  together. 
And  yet,  on  the  petty  pretext  of  disparity  in  our 
lots,  you  would  banish  the  one  ray  of  sunshine  pen 
etrating  these  prison  walls — our  old  comradeship." 


Libby  Prison  161 

"You  are  well  and  strong.  I  am  ill,"  pleaded 
Hunt. 

"I  don't  forget  that,  either,"  murmured  Cox, 
softening. 

"I  've  talked  too  much,  I  suppose.  It 's  all 
over  now.  Here  's  my  hand,  if  you  will  take  it." 

Cox  did  not  take  it,  immediately,  but  answered: 

"It 's  all  right,  Ralph.  Only,  give  me  a  little 
time  to  get  over  it — for  you  cut  deep,  old  fel 
low." 

At  this  moment  a  sudden  silence  fell,  and  a 
general  movement  and  whisper  made  themselves 
manifest.  Enter  Captain  Jackson  Warner,  the 
prison  commissary. 

"Evening,  Yanks,"  was  his  gruff  but  not 
unkindly  greeting.  "What  deviltry  are  you  up 
to  now?" 

"Talking  over  old  times  and  old  comrades, 
Captain,  that  's  all,"  replied  Cox,  gently. 

"Well,  you  may  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
some  more  o'  them  'ere  old  comrades  o'  yourn,  I 
reckon,  before  long." 

"What!  are  we  going  to  get  out?" 

"No — they  're  coming  in  here.  I  suppose 
you  've  heard  the  news?" 

At  these  words,  a  young  lieutenant  who  had  sat 
silently  in  an  opposite  corner,  reading  a  copy  of 


i 62  Shenandoah 

the  Richmond  Dispatch  weeks  old,  threw  down  the 
paper  and  listened  attentively. 

"Let  us  know  the  worst,  Captain  Warner," 
urged  Cox.  "We  're  used  to  it — haven't  got 
feelings  any  more,  you  know.  What 's  the 
news?" 

"Oh,  some  more  fighting  in  the  Valley,  that 's 
all.  Yanks  licked  out  o*  their  boots  again,  as 
usual.  More  prisoners,  more  hard  luck  stories. ' ' 

"  What 's  that ? "  cried  Deacon  Hart.  "Another 
fight?  more  prisoners?  Oh,  Lord!" 

"You  're  on  the  religious,  are  n't  you?"  inquired 
the  commissary,  scoffingly. 

"  I  'm  a  shouting  Methodist  these  forty  years, 
thank  the  Lord,"  answered  the  Deacon,  holding 
his  hand  of  cards  behind  his  back. 

"Well,  your  shouting  hasn't  benefited  Abe 
Lincoln,  nor  yourself,  very  much,  so  far.  You  'd 
better  swing  around  and  pray  for  Jeff  Davis,  I 
reckon,  and  be  on  the  safe  side." 

"Never,  till  this  right  hand" — putting  out  his 
left,  with  the  cards,  then  jerking  it  back  and  hold 
ing  up  the  right — "shall  lose  its  cunning." 

"Oh,  go  ahead,  Deacon,  and  pray  for  Jeff  Davis, 
if  they  want  you  to,"  suggested  Cox.  "  He  '11  need 
it,  before  this  war  's  over." 

"You  can  talk  with  your  friends,  just  from  the 


Libby  Prison  163 

front,  about  that,"  retorted  Warner,  gruffly. 
"Here  's  one  of  'em  coming  up-stairs,  now." 

A  measured  tramp  was  heard  approaching  out 
side.  The  commissary  opened  the  door,  and  the 
new  Union  prisoner  was  marched  in  between  two 
guards.  He  saluted,  and  introduced  himself. 

"Gentlemen,  permit  me.  I  am  Colonel  Coggs- 
well,  of  the  Forty-second  New  York." 

"The  Tammany  regiment,  of  New  York  City!" 
exclaimed  Lieutenant  Bedloe,  sotto  voce. 

Captain  Cox  returned  the  newcomer's  salute, 
and  responded: 

"We  have  heard  of  you,  Colonel,  and  we  are 
right  proud  to  meet  you.  My  comrades  here  are : 
Captain  Hunt,  of  Kentucky;  Chaplain  Hart,  of 
Indiana;  and  Lieutenant  Bedloe,  from — why, 
from  your  own  State,  I  believe.  I  am  Captain 
Cox,  of  the  Tenth  Kentucky." 

Colonel  Coggswell  shook  hands  all  around,  and 
said: 

"I  am  fortunate  to  have  the  honor  of  sharing 
your  quarters.  I  don't  suppose  you  find  it  exactly 
lonesome  here." 

"The  place  is  quite  populous.  It  seems  as  if 
the  fortunes  of  war  had  picked  out  the  flower  of 
our  army  to  pine  away  in  infernal  holes  like  this. 
Oh,  for  an  hour  of  action!" 


164  Shenandoah 

"Just  wait  till  the  exchange,"  said  the  hopeful 
Hart.  "With  a  dozen  men  like  us,  they  might 
redeem  a  whole  Rebel  regiment." 

"I  understand,"  said  Ralph  Hunt,  gloomily, 
"that  their  idea  is  to  get  the  well-kept  Confederate 
prisoners  back  from  the  Union  camps,  and  send  us 
as  living  skeletons  in  exchange." 

"Do  you  think,  Colonel  Coggswell,"  asked  Cox, 
"that  things  are  going  as  badly  with  us  in  the 
Valley  and  elsewhere  as  the  Rebs  try  to  make  out  ?  " 

"Yes — and  a  damned  sight  worse,  I  should  say, 
at  the  present  moment." 

"Then,"  interposed  Hart,  tragically,  "all  is  lost, 
save  honor." 

The  Colonel  drew  himself  up  proudly,  glanced 
around  to  make  sure  that  the  commissary  and 
guard  had  retired,  then  with  a  superb  dramatic 
gesture  opened  the  coat  of  his  uniform,  which  had 
been  tightly  buttoned  up  to  his  chin,  and  dis 
played  the  Stars  and  Stripes  wrapped  around  his 
body. 

' '  Not  all  lost,  sir.     Our  colors,  by  God ! " 

The  prisoners  rushed  forward,  their  eyes  bulg 
ing  and  cheeks  glowing  with  patriotic  ardor. 

Even  poor  Hunt  rose  excitedly  from  his  couch. 

' '  Three  cheers,  boys, ' '  cried  Cox.  ' '  All  together 
—let  her  go!" 


Libby  Prison  165 

They  gave  a  rousing  round  of  cheers  that 
brought  Captain  Warner  back  double-quick  into 
the  room. 

"Come,  come,  gentlemen!  Remember  where 
you  are.  This  ain't  Washington,  D.  C.  What 
are  you  feeling  so  ornery  about?" 

"We  were  just  welcoming  an  old  friend," 
explained  Cox* 

"And  besides,  Cap,"  interposed  Hart,  "ain't 
this  Thanksgiving  eve?  How  about  them  pump 
kin  pies  we  ordered,  and  paid  for  in  good  United 
States  money?" 

"That 's  a  fact,"  answered  the  commissary. 
"Well,  the  cook  tackled  'em,  according  to  direc 
tions.  They  ought  to  be  pretty  nigh  done,  by 
this  time.  Queer  grub,  that." 

' '  The  greatest  on  earth, ' '  declared  Hart.  ' '  And 
what 's  more,  Captain  Warner,  every  slice  of  that 
'ere  pumpkin  '11  be  sweetened  with  the  thought 
of  home. 

''Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home: 
There  's  no  place  like ' ' 

"Oh,  shucks!  Sing  'Dixie,'  why  don't  you. 
That 's  a  proper  tune.  Is  there  any  Yank  knows 
'Dixie'?" 

"Maybe  Lieutenant  Bedloe  can  oblige  you," 


1 66  Shenandoah 

responded  Cox.     "Eh,  Frank,  what  do  you  say?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  can  sing  'Dixie,'  I  guess,  though 
I  'm  not  quite  sure  about  the  words,"  replied  the 
young  lieutenant. 

"Never  mind  the  words — the  tune's  the  thing," 
said  Warner. 

"All  right."  Then,  aside  to  his  comrades:  "He 
says  the  words  don't  matter.  Just  listen." 

And  in  the  clear,  ringing  voice  of  a  college  glee 
singer,  Lieutenant  Bedloe  gave  this  stanza,  of  his 
own  composition,  which  had  often  helped  beguile 
the  weary  hours  of  the  forlorn  prison  day : 

"And  is  Virginia,  too,  seceding, 
Washington 's  remains  unheeding. 

Look  away,  look  away,  look  away,  Dixie's  land. 
Come,  loyal  men,  we  '11  march  upon  her, 
Save  the  Old  Dominion's  honor, 

Look  away,  look  away,  look  away,  Dixie's  land. 

' '  Unfurl  our  country 's  banner 

In  triumph  there, 
And  let  the  Rebels  desecrate 

That  banner  if  they  dare. 
Hurrah,  hurrah! 

The  Stars  and  Stripes  forever. 
Hurrah,  hurrah! 

This  Union  shall  not  sever. ' ' 

It  took  Captain  Warner  some  little  time  to  grasp 
the  significance  of  this  new  version  of  "  Dixie,"  but 


Libby  Prison  167 

as  soon  as  he  did  he  turned  very  red,  and  shouted : 

' '  Hold  on,  there !    Cut  it  short ,  I  say . " 

"Do  you  want  another  verse,  captain?" 

"Not  in  that  strain.  Bedloe,  you  're  the  sas 
siest  Yank  in  Libby  prison.  That  sort  o'  thing'll 
either  git  you  free,  or  shot,  some  day." 

At  this  juncture,  the  door  opened,  and  imme 
diately  a  joyous  commotion  ensued. 

"Pie!  pie!  0,  pumpkin  pie!  Attention,  all! 
Salute  the  pastry!  Let  the  noble  pumpkin 
approach  its  doom  with  military  honors." 

The  prisoners  drew  up  in  line,  opposite  Captain 
Warner,  while  in  marched  a  dignified  old  negress 
with  a  red  bandanna  turban  on  her  head,  bearing 
aloft  in  both  hands  a  platter  containing  an  enor 
mous  pie.  This  she  solemnly  deposited  on  the 
table,  then  turned  and  made  her  exit  in  silence, 
saluted  profoundly  by  the  company. 

"Well,  I  seem  to  have  happened  in  at  the  right 
time,"  said  Colonel  Coggswell. 

"Chaplain  Hart  will  ask  a  blessing. — Will  you 
join  us,  Captain  Warner?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  replied  the  commissary, 
making  his  exit.  "The  atmosphere's  getting  too 
Yankeefied  in  here  to  agree  with  me.  So,  thank 
ing  you  all  the  same,  I  '11  beg  to  be  excused." 

"Now,    then,    Deacon,"   urged   Cox,   as   they 


1 68  Shenandoah 

gathered  around  the  "festive  board," — "you  're 
going  to  say  something,  are  n't  you?" 

Knife  in  hand,  Hart  stood  in  an  attitude  of 
devotion  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

"All  I  can  say  is,  Lord  bless  this  'ere  pie" — 
then,  as  an  expression  of  horror  and  disgust  over 
spread  his  homely  face — "and  the  Lord  help  us 
after  we  've  eaten  it !  Why,  durn  my  skin,  if  they 
ain't  gone  and  put  an  upper  crust  on  a  pumpkin 
pie!  And  the  pumpkin  cut  into  hunks  as  big  as 
your  fist,  without  no  milk  nor  sugar,  and  not  half 
baked,  neither." 

"The  devil!  Those  Virginia  darkies  are  good 
cooks,  but  they  don't  know  what  pumpkin  pie  is." 

Deacon  Hart  carved  the  pie,  and  distributed 
slabs  all  around,  remarking  philosophically: 

1 '  The  blacks  must  be  freed  and  educated.  Think 
of  a  whole  race  in  such  benighted  ignorance  as 
this!" 

The  attack  had  scarcely  begun,  when  Captain 
Warner  once  more  appeared  at  the  door,  making 
a  sign  which  all  the  imprisoned  officers  instantly 
understood. 

"Stir  up  the  animals,  boys!"  whispered  Hart. 
"Visitors  coming." 

"Petticoats,  too,"  added  Cox,  looking  out. 

A  pretty,  vivacious  young  woman,  escorted  by 


Libby  Prison  169 

a  sinister-looking  Confederate  officer,  who  singled 
out  Lieutenant  Bedloe  with  a  malicious  sneer 
and  received  a  flashing  look  of  silent  scorn  and 
defiance  in  return,  were  shown  in  by  the  commis 
sary. 

"This  is  the  Potomac  room,  Miss  Mason. 
Gentlemen,  a  Southern  lady  pays  you  the  honor  of 
a  visit." 

Captain  Cox  bowed  courteously,  while  all  his 
comrades  stood  in  the  background. 

"Madam,  be  assured  of  our  grateful  apprecia 
tion.  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  have  seen  a 
woman's  face.  We  are  not  exactly  fixed  up  for 
company,  but — "  At  this  point  he  looked  into 
her  shining  eyes,  and  in  sudden  overwhelming 
recognition  exclaimed — "Great  heavens! — Marie! 
— Miss  Mason — I  am  not  mistaken?" 

"No,  Tom,"  she  answered,  sweetly,  "you  are 
not  mistaken.  Oh,  what  a  horrid  place." 

"Yes,  you  find  us  at  a  disadvantage — I  say  us, 
for,  as  you  see,  Ralph  is  here,  too." 

"Oh,  dear,  how  terrible!  You  poor,  foolish 
boys!  And  how  is  it  with  you,  Ralph?" 

"Thank  you — not  much  worse  than  when  I 
parted  from  you  at  Lexington." 

"What  a  pair  of  rash,  headstrong  boys!  Why 
did  you  desert  the  South?" 


170  Shenandoah 

"Was  n't  it  the  South  that  did  the  deserting? — 
Oh,  but  don't  let  us  talk  politics." 

"  It  just  breaks  my  heart  to  see  you  here,  both  of 
you — yes,  all  of  you,"  said  the  young  woman, 
looking  around  sympathetically.  Then  she  took 
from  under  her  cloak  a  cigar  box  and  a  couple  of 
bottles  wrapped  in  a  newspaper,  and  set  them  on 
the  table  beside  the  sorry-looking  wreck  of  the 
pumpkin  pie.  "I  've  brought  you  a  few  cigars 
and  things  to  cheer  you  up.  Was  n't  I  thought 
ful?" 

An  inarticulate  murmur  of  thankfulness  went 
up  from  the  whole  group  of  men. 

"For  my  part,"  said  Captain  Cox,  "I  can  truly 
say  at  this  moment  that  I  'm  glad  to  be  here — 
otherwise  I  should  have  missed  this  angel's 
visit." 

"Bless  your  pretty  face  and  gentle  heart,  Miss," 
Deacon  Hart  said,  fervently.  "What  a  pity 
you  're  Secesh!" 

"Well,  she  seems  to  lean  towards  the  Union  side, 
anyway,"  whispered  Colonel  Coggswell,  as  Cap 
tain  Cox  and  the  fair  visitor  conversed  in  low, 
earnest  tones,  with  their  heads  very  close  together. 

The  Union  men  had  gradually  dropped  behind 
the  screen  of  a  wooden  partition  at  the  far  end 
of  the  room,  while  Captain  Warner  and  the 


Libby  Prison  171 

other  Confederate  officer  stood  just  outside  the 
door. 

"Why,  they  have  all  gone,"  said  the  young 
woman,  blushing  slightly. 

"Yes,  we  do  that  when  anyone  has  a  visitor. 
Marie,  we  are  alone,  for  a  moment." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief,  and 
began  to  weep. 

"To  think  we  should  meet  again  like  this!" 

"You  did  n't  come  here  just  to  say  that,  Marie. 
You  are  fickle,  but  not  deliberately  cruel." 

"It  is  you  who  are  cruel,  when  you  talk  like 
that.  Oh,  Tom !  you  know  I  love  you." 

"Do  I?    How?" 

"I  have  come  here  to  save  you." 

"To  save  me?" 

"Yes — or  to  tell  you  how  you  can  be  saved,  I 
think.  General  Winder  is  coming." 

"General  Winder,  the  Provost-Marshal  of  Rich 
mond?  You  say  he  is  coming  here  to  Libby 
Prison?" 

"Yes,  right  now — this  evening.  I  coaxed  him 
to  get  me  permission  for  this  little  visit,  first. 
You  know  he  is  an  old  friend  of  father's,  and  he 
would  n't  refuse  me  anything." 

"Then,  there  's  something  in  the  wind?" 

"It  's  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  I  think.     Any- 


172  Shenandoah 

way,  I  heard  some  talk  about  selecting  six  officers 
from  your  room,  here.  It  must  be  for  exchange. 
You  shall  be  one  of  the  six,  Tom." 

"And  Hunt?" 

"Yes,  poor  Ralph,  too.  That 's  what  I  told 
General  Winder.  He  shook  his  head,  and  looked 
very  serious;  but  I  know  he  won't  refuse  me  this, 
especially  as  it  makes  no  difference  to  him  whom  he 
selects." 

"  Good  for  you,  Marie!  What  can  I  say  to  you, 
now?" 

"Say  that  when  once  you  are  free  from  this 
horrid  prison,  you  will  go  back  South — that  you 
will  fight  no  more  against  our  own  people — that 
you  will  keep  for  me  the  life  I  am  trying  to  help 
you  to  save." 

The  officer  paced  once  across  the  room,  excit 
edly,  then  said: 

"No,  Marie.  Rather  than  that,  let  me  stay 
where  I  am.  My  country  needs  me.  Why,  I 
should  chiefly  value  my  liberty  because  I  could 
use  it  to  fight  for  the  Union." 

The  girl  began  weeping  again. 

"And  have  I  no  claim  on  you?"  she  said. 

"Yes,  dear  child,"  he  responded  with  an  impulse 
of  tenderness,  "a  very  strong  claim,  second  to  none 
except  that  of  patriotism,  of  honor.  Listen, 


Libby  Prison  173 

Marie.  I  do  love  you — dearer  than  my  heart's 
blood  is  the  smile  you  have  given  me  to-day,  and 
the  pressure  of  that  little  hand.  And  yet,  God 
help  me!  those  can  never  be  mine  again  until  this 
war  is  over,  and  the  Union  saved,  helped  by  every 
thought  and  energy  that  fate  may  leave  me  to 
bestow." 

"Hush!  they  are  coming,"  she  said,  pointing  to 
the  door. 

"Then — good-bye,  Marie!    God  bless  you." 

"I  'm  sorry,"  interrupted  Captain  Warner, 
"but  the  time  is  up." 

The  girl  smiled  jauntily  through  her  tears. 

"Oh,  dear!  Good-bye,  Tom.  Good-bye, 
Ralph.  Gentlemen,  good-bye,  all  of  you.  I  'm  so 
sorry!  But  you  '11  try  and  make  the  best  of  it, 
won't  you?" 

"  Of  course  we  will,  bless  your  kind  little  heart," 
responded  Colonel  Coggswell,  coming  forward 
again.  "And  let  me  tell  you,  Mademoiselle, 
you  Ve  completed  the  Rebels'  work, — by  captur 
ing  our  hearts." 

"Three  cheers  for  the  American  girl,  anyhow!" 
proposed  Hart. 

They  were  given  with  a  will ;  and  Marie  Mason, 
going  out  with  honors,  was  rejoined  by  Captain 
Edward  Thornton,  of  the  Confederate  Secret 


174  Shenandoah 

Service,  who  had  watched  the  scene  with  a  pecu 
liarly  cynical  smile. 

"Well,  boys,"  said  Captain  Cox,  turning  to  his 
comrades,  "  I  learn  that  General  Winder  is  coming 
here." 

"What  for?"  asked  the  chorus. 

"An  exchange,  I  '11  bet!"  suggested  Hart. 

"Attention,  gentlemen!"  commanded  the  loud 
voice  of  Captain  Warner. 

General  Winder,  Provost-Marshal  of  Richmcnd, 
in  full  uniform,  and  accompanied  by  a  staff  officer, 
entered  and  stood  at  the  head  of  the  rough  table. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  place  suddenly  became  that 
of  a  court-martial. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  Federal  Army,"  said  the 
general,  impressively,  "I  have  come  here  at  short 
notice,  to  perform  a  difficult,  a  painful,  yet  an 
imperative  duty." 

"What 's  that?"  whispered  Hart— "a  painful 
duty?" 

"She  was  mistaken,  then,"  murmured  Cox. 
"This  is  no  exchange." 

General  Winder  then  briefly  announced  the  in 
telligence  that  a  Confederate  cruiser  having  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  Federal  authorities,  the  latter 
proposed  putting  the  officers  and  crew  on  trial  for 
piracy,  threatening  them  with  summary  execution. 


Libby  Prison  175 

"Under  these  circumstances,"  continued  the 
General,  "the  Confederate  States  Government  has 
felt  constrained  to  give  notice  that  we  will  hold 
an  equal  number  of  Union  men,  of  corresponding 
rank,  chosen  from  among  the  prisoners  at  present 
in  our  hands  here  in  Richmond,  as  hostages,  to 
be  dealt  with  in  the  same  manner  as  Mr.  Lincoln 
shall  decide  to  deal  with  those  of  our  compatriots 
now  in  his  power." 

There  was  a  moment  of  dead  silence  followed 
by  excited  whispering  amongst  the  prisoners,  for 
whom  Captain  Cox  acted  as  spokesman. 

"General,"  said  he,  "I  think  we  appreciate  the 
situation,  and  beg  to  say  that  we  are  at  your 
service." 

A  common  murmur  of  assent  confirmed  his 
words.  General  Winder  then  said: 

"My  requisition  calls  for  six  officers,  out  of  per 
haps  four  times  that  number,  from  this  division. 
Are  there  six  among  you  who,  knowing  the  gravity 
of  the  situation — and  I  do  not  deceive  you  as  to  its 
import — are  there  six  among  you,  I  say,  who  are 
willing  to  offer  themselves  as  hostages?" 

Every  Union  man  in  the  room  stepped  forward, 
including  Ralph  Hunt,  who  arose  feebly  from  his 
couch,  and  had  to  be  supported  on  the  arms  of  two 
comrades. 


176  Shenandoah 

General  Winder  was  visibly  affected  at  the 
manifestation,  but  he  pretended  to  be  only  per 
plexed  and  annoyed. 

"What — all  of  you?  But  I  only  asked  for  six. 
I  see  that  some  definite  plan  of  selection  will  have 
to  be  followed.  You  shall  draw  lots." 

He  took  out  his  note-book,  tore  some  slips  of 
paper  from  it,  and  directed  Captain  Warner  to 
pass  them  around  and  have  each  man  write  his 
name  on  one.  The  slips  were  then  placed  in  a  hat, 
from  which  Captain  Cox  was  unanimously  chosen 
to  draw  out  six  names.  He  did  so,  one  at  a  time, 
handing  each  slip  to  Captain  Warner  without  look 
ing  at  it,  Warner  read  the  names  aloud,  and  the 
General  repeated  them  after  him,  at  the  same  time 
writing  them  down  in  his  note-book.  They  were 
as  follows: 

"Major  Paul  Revere,  3Oth  Massachusetts." 
"Colonel  Alfred  Wood,  I4th  New  York." 
"Lieutenant  Frank  Bedloe, — Pennsylvania." 
"Colonel  Michael  Corcoran,  69th  New  York." 
"Captain  Alfred  Ely,  37th  New  York." 
"Captain  Ralph  Hunt,  loth  Kentucky." 
Instantly  upon  the  completion  of  this  list,  Cap 
tain  Cox  spoke  up  and  said : 

"General,  the  last  name  I  have  drawn,  by  an 
unhappy  fatality,  is  that  of  my  old  friend  and 


Libby  Prison  177 

comrade,  Captain  Ralph  Hunt.  He  is  a  sick  man, 
and  not  in  condition  to  go  as  hostage.  With  your 
permission,  General,  I  will  go  in  his  place." 

While  General  Winder  was  deliberating  his 
reply,  a  woman's  scream  was  heard  outside  the 
door,  and  Marie  Mason  rushed  wildly  in. 

"You  shall  not  do  it,  Tom!"  she  cried.  "It  is 
not  to  freedom,  but  to  death,  they  would  take  you. 
Don't  go,  Tom!  The  lots  decided  it  fairly,  and 
your  name  was  not  drawn.  You  shall  not 

Here  the  silent  Confederate  officer,  Captain 
Thornton,  who  had  followed  closely  after  her, 
caught  her  in  his  arms  as  she  sank  back  fainting, 
and,  at  a  sign  from  the  General,  carried  her,  with 
the  assistance  of  Warner,  out  of  the  room.  Then, 
turning  to  Captain  Cox,  General  Winder  said, 
sternly : 

"Your  proposition  is  out  of  order,  sir,  and  I  can 
not  consider  it.  The  six  men  whose  names  have 
been  drawn  will  report  at  once  in  the  commissary's 
room." 

The  General  and  his  staff  officer  retired,  while 
Captain  Warner  and  the  guard  took  up  their  posi 
tions  at  either  side  of  the  doorway. 

Hunt,  the  sick  man,  who  had  been  helped  by 
Lieutenant  Bedloe  to  a  chair,  now  got  up  again, 
and  grasped  Captain  Cox's  hand,  saying : 


178  Shenandoah 

"Tom,  you  are  the  better  man  of  us  two — you 
have  proven  it  in  every  way.  I  'm  glad  Winder 
would  n't  take  you,  as  it  is  far  better  that  I  should 
go.  All  the  same,  you  meant  it,  old  fellow,  and  it 
was  sublime." 

"Why,  Ralph,"  said  Cox,  chokingly,  "we  are 
comrades,  old  comrades.  Say  no  more — but  I 
wish  to  heaven  I  could  go  in  your  place." 

"Attention!    Fall  in!"  commanded  Warner. 

The  six  doomed  men  fell  into  line,  after  silently 
shaking  hands  with  those  left  behind,  Hunt  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  young  Bedloe,  and  followed  Warner 
into  the  outer  darkness — for  night  had  fallen,  and 
the  fitful  glare  of  a  couple  of  lanterns  intensified 
rather  than  dissipated  the  surrounding  gloom. 

Cox  paced  up  and  down  the  forlorn  room,  with 
bowed  head  and  hands  clasped  behind  his  back, 
for  full  fifteen  minutes  in  the  awed  silence.  Then 
he  muttered: 

"This  is  the  last  blow.  Deacon,  do  you  ever 
despair  of  what  they  call  Providence?" 

"Never  did  yit,"  protested  the  sturdy  Hoosier. 
"I  can't  and  won't  believe  they  are  going  to  sacri 
fice  those  boys  in  cold  blood.  Such  things  ain't 
in  the  bounds  of  civilization." 

"I  don't  know.  How  about  war  itself?  Here 
you  have  it,  the  deadliest  kind — brother  against 


Libby  Prison  179 

brother.  I  tell  you,  Hart,  we  haven't  seen  the 
worst  yet,  though  God  knows  there  's  enough  to 
make  the  angels  in  heaven  weep,  already." 

"Well,  one  thing  is  certain:  these  hostages  won't 
be  sacrificed  unless  the  Rebel  prisoners  are  exe 
cuted  first — so  our  side  will  have  the  first  move, 
anyhow." 

"What  sort  of  consolation  is  that,  to  the  fellows 
who  get  shot,  or  hung?" 

Here  another  violent  commotion  interrupted. 
Marie  Mason  entered, — a  lone,  dishevelled,  bright- 
eyed  apparition. 

"Oh,  Tom — "  she  gasped,  breathlessly. 

"What!  you  poor  child,  are  you  still  here?" 
Cox  exclaimed,  this  time  gathering  her  unre 
servedly  in  his  arms.  "You  must  leave  this 
accursed  place,  or  you  will  go  mad — if  you  don't 
drive  us  so." 

"  I  Ve  come  back  to  tell  you  there  's  more  news." 

"Of  what?    Of  whom?" 

"From  Washington — of  the  Confederate  pris 
oners.  General  Winder  has  just  received  a  des 
patch." 

"  Great  Jehosophat ! "  ejaculated  Hart.  "  Didn't 
I  tell  you  so?" 

"What  does  the  despatch  say?  "  asked  Cox. 

"I  don't  know, — but  it  is  favorable,  I  am  sure — 


i8o  Shenandoah 

that  is,  there  are  n't  going  to  be  any  executions. 
I  heard  the  General  say  that  much." 

"Here  comes  the  commissary,"  announced 
Hart. 

"For  God's  sake,  Captain  Warner,"  said  Cox, 
as  that  official  reappeared,  "don't  keep  us  in  this 
horrible  suspense  another  minute.  What 's  the 
latest  news?" 

"There  's  a  woman  about — what  more  do  you 
want?"  replied  Warner.  "She  overheard  a  secret 
about  a  minute  ago,  and  as  a  natural  result  it 's 
all  over  the  place  by  this  time." 

"I  beg  of  you,  Cap,  on  my  bended  knees," 
pleaded  Hart,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word. 

"Well,"  said  the  commissary  captain,  very 
deliberately  taking  a  paper  from  his  pocket,  "I 
suppose  you-uns  may  as  well  be  put  out  of  your 
misery.  Here  's  a  copy  of  the  despatch  General 
Winder  has  got  from  Abe  Lincoln.  I  thought 
the  Washington  Government  would  back  down." 

He  handed  the  paper  to  Cox,  who  read  eagerly 
aloud: 

"President  learns  from  New  York  trial  of  Con 
federate  cruiser  prisoners  resulted  in  disagree 
ment  of  jury.  Leniency  to  be  shown.  Proposed 
holding  of  Union  hostages  in  jeopardy  at  Rich 
mond  unnecessary.  Question  of  exchange  re- 


Gen.  Buckthorn  (reading), —  "  '  General  Rosser  will  rejoin  General 

Early  with  all  the  cavalry  in  his  command  at '     This 

is  important.     Anything  else,  Colonel  ?  " 
Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 


Libby  Prison  181 

ferred  to  separate  negotiations  pending  on  that 
subject. 

"Signed,  SIMON  CAMERON, 

"Secretary  of  War." 

"You  see,  I  was  right  this  time,"  said  Marie, 
triumphantly. 

"Hooray!  here  come  the  boys  back,"  cried  Dea 
con  Hart.  "What  did  I  say  about  faith  in  Provi 
dence?  This  is  going  to  be  a  blessed  Thanksgiving, 
even  if  we  ain't  exchanged  yit." 

"Oh  Tom!  this  is  your  last  chance,"  whispered 
Marie,  as  the  tramp  of  approaching  footsteps  was 
heard  outside. 

"Last  chance  for  what?"  asked  Captain  Cox} 
with  exasperating  stupidity. 

"Why,  to  kiss  me." 

Such  was  life  as  it  wore  along  in  the  tobacco 
warehouse  prisons.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  instance 
just  related,  the  emotions  of  years  were  crowded 
into  a  single  hour.  Ordinarily,  the  heavy  days 
dragged  so  that  each  one  seemed  a  weary  lifetime. 
The  hope  of  exchange  was  ever  hope  deferred. 
Plots  and  plans  of  escape  served  to  beguile  the 
intolerable  ennui  of  captivity,  and  to  bring  a  pass 
ing  flush  of  excitement  to  wan  cheeks — and  that 
was  about  all.  What  made  all  else  the  harder  to 


1 82  Shenandoah 

bear,  was  the  fact  that  nothing  but  discouragement 
and  disaster  could  be  found  in  such  news  as  got  in 
through  those  iron-barred  doors  and  windows. 
The  poor  fellows  would  have  suffered  and  died 
without  a  murmur,  but  for  the  heart-sickening 
thought  that  perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  of  no  avail. 

A  warm  brotherly  affection  had  sprung  up 
between  Captain  Ralph  Hunt,  the  weak  but  coura 
geous  consumptive,  and  Lieutenant  Frank  Bedloe, 
the  youthful  spirit  of  that  sad  community,  who  was 
more  or  less  a  mystery  to  his  closest  comrades,  yet 
who  bore  a  sort  of  "dare-devil"  reputation  even 
amongst  those  who  knew  him  but  slightly,  or  not 
at  all.  Bedloe  fairly  burned  to  be  free  and  fight 
ing  again,  and  he  lost  sleep  straining  at  the  idea  of 
escape.  He  had  been  in  every  forlorn  hope  of  the 
kind  since  his  arrival,  and  was  under  special  sur 
veillance,  perhaps  on  this  account,  perhaps  at  the 
instance  of  a  certain  Confederate  Secret  Service 
officer,  Thornton  by  name. 

Other  Union  prisoners  in  Libby  were  allowed 
occasional  visitors,  and  received  presents  of  food 
and  clothing  from  home.  No  such  remembrances 
ever  reached  Lieutenant  Bedloe.  No  letters  came 
to  him,  nor  was  he  known  to  write  any.  It  was 
even  uncertain  to  what  State  he  belonged;  and  if 
he  had  a  home,  relatives  or  friends,  he  never  made 


Libby  Prison  183 

any  allusion  to  them.  War  was  war,  not  a  picnic, 
he  said.  Once  a  soldier,  it  was  "  all  off  "  with  other 
ties.  His  one  object  was  to  win  military  distinc 
tion,  meaning  rapid  promotion  for  conspicuous 
gallantry,  and  he  was  bound  to  do  it  yet,  somehow, 
in  spite  of  hell.  The  only  clew  he  had  ever  given 
as  to  his  career  before  joining  McClellan's  Army 
of  the  Potomac,  was  in  discussing  the  brave  young 
Colonel  Ellsworth,  of  New  York,  who  lost  his  life 
on  the  very  threshold  of  the  war  in  an  act  of  reck 
less  heroism — that  of  climbing  to  the  roof  of  the 
Marshall  House  at  Alexandria  and  with  his  own 
hands  hauling  down  the  Confederate  flag  which 
had  flaunted  within  sight  of  the  White  House  at 
Washington. 

"There  was  just  one  thing  to  do,"  Frank  Bedloe 
was  wont  to  declare,  "and  Ellsworth  went  ahead 
and  did  it.  If  he  had  n't,  I  would  have  taken  the 
next  chance.  But  the  flag  was  hauled  down,  and 
stayed  down — a  fellow  could  afford  to  die,  after 
that.  I  would  n't  ask  anything  better." 

Precisely  the  opposite  of  this  fierce  and  sombre 
obsession  was  the  character  of  Ralph  Hunt — 
frank,  gentle,  confiding,  childlike  in  some  qualities 
as  well  as  in  some  weaknesses.  But  he  loved  Bed 
loe  ;  and  his  own  ambitions,  as  the  tide  of  a  blighted 
life  slowly  but  surely  ebbed,  merged  into  one  grand 


184  Shenandoah 

desire  to  do  something  for  the  strong,  high-spirited, 
dashing  comrade  who  had  contributed  so  much  to 
cheer  the  horrible  gloom  of  prison  existence. 

The  opportunity  came  in  an  odd  and  unexpected 
way.  Hunt 's  kind  Southern  friends  had  the  happy 
thought  to  replace  his  dilapidated  uniform  with  a 
new  suit  of  clothes — citizen's  clothes,  of  course, 
and  of  the  good  homely  material  known  as  "butter 
nut."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  whole  Confederate 
Army,  especially  after  the  first  year  of  the  war,  was 
sprinkled  with  butternut  of  various  shades.  The 
"uniforms"  were  anything  but  uniform.  A  gray 
coat,  a  gray  pair  of  trousers,  or  a  gray  hat,  sufficed 
to  mark  the  followers  of  Lee  and  Jackson;  and 
some  soldiers  went  through  all  the  campaigns  clad 
in  their  home  garb  as  farmers  or  mountaineers. 
Scores  of  Confederate  soldiers  in  "butternuts" 
passed  along  Carey  Street  in  front  of  Libby  Prison 
every  day,  and  many  of  the  guards  who  went 
through  the  rooms  each  morning  to  count  the 
prisoners  were  dressed  in  the  same  material. 

A  supreme  service  was  devised  for  Ralph  Hunt's 
new  suit,  the  very  day  it  arrived. 

"You  are  the  man  to  get  away  with  it,  Frank," 
insisted  the  owner  of  the  clothes.  "The  oppor 
tunity  is  wasted  on  me." 

"Ralph  is  right,"  declared  Captain  Cox.  "You 


Libby  Prison  185 

can  make  as  good  use  of  your  liberty  as  any  officer 
here,  Lieutenant  Bedloe.  No,  don't  think  of  me — 
I  have  something  else  in  view  for  myself." 

So  it  came  about  that  one  morning  when  Captain 
Warner  had  been  replaced  by  a  subordinate  named 
Turner  as  acting  commissary,  and  the  guard  for 
the  Potomac  room  had  been  newly  changed,  a 
gawky  youth  in  butternuts  (Frank  had  contrived 
to  shave  off  his  beard  and  moustache)  slipped  out 
behind  the  officer  who  had  perfunctorily  counted 
the  prisoners,  and  in  a  twinkling  was  mixed  up 
with  the  free  Southerners  who  lounged  about  the 
place  on  one  pretext  or  another,  though  he  was 
still  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  railing  that  consti 
tuted  the ' '  dead  line. ' '  Here  Turner  was  stationed , 
sitting  at  a  desk  just  within  the  pale. 

"Hello,  Cap — do  they  keep  you  busy?"  drawled 
the  youth  in  butternuts,  matching  his  clothes  with 
the  assumed  accent  of  a  North  Carolina  "tar-heel." 

"Who  the  devil  are  you?  "  demanded  the  official, 
glancing  up  from  his  records.  "And  what  are 
you  doing  in  here?  " 

"I  'm  from  No'th  Ca'liny,  and  I  follered  the 
gyard  in  so  's  to  git  a  look  at  them  'ere  Yankee 
prisoners.  I  'm  goin'  to  the  front  to-morrow,  an' 
I  thought  before  I  went  I  'd  like  to  see  what  these 
Yanks  looked  like." 


1 86  Shenandoah 

"Go  to  the  front,  and  be  damned!  and  there 
you  '11  see  more  Yanks  than  you  want  to.  Now 
get  out  of  here,  and  stay  out." 

"All  right,  Cap,  ye  need  n't  be  so  sassy  abaout 
it,"  retorted  the  supposed  "tar-heel,"  as  he  lurched 
out  through  the  wicket,  and  made  for  the  door, 
where,  rolling  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  cheek,  he 
winked  at  the  armed  guard  and  passed  out. 

Here  was  where  Lieutenant  Frank  Bedloe,  dare 
devil,  demonstrated  his  old  self  again.  Instead  of 
disappearing  with  all  possible  celerity,  as  any  man 
of  ordinary  nerve  would  have  done,  once  escaped 
from  Libby  Prison,  he  deliberately  crossed  the 
street  to  the  vacant  lot  opposite,  and  stood  there  a 
minute  or  two  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  gazing 
up  at  the  barred  front  windows  of  the  big  brick 
building,  to  see  if  any  of  his  late  comrades  in 
captivity  had  ventured  across  the  dead  line  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  his  actual  departure  for  "God's 
country." 

A  few  pale  faces  could  be  dimly  discerned  within. 
To  these  Frank  waved  a  parting  salute,  murmuring, 
"Good-bye!  I  hope  we  '11  meet  again  somewhere 
else." 

Then  he  slouched  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
Rocketts,  down  the  bend  of  the  James  River. 


CHAPTER  XII 

LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS 

"No  mail,  no  post, 

No  news  from  any  foreign  coast; 
No  warmth,  no  cheerfulness,  no  healthful  ease, 

No  comfortable  feel  in  any  member; 
No  shade,  no  sun,  no  butterflies,  no  bees, — 
November!" 

'""PHE  Federal  army  had  been  repulsed  from  Rich- 
*  mond,  but  the  Southern  capital  was  still  its 
grand  objective.  The  Confederate  forces  in  the 
meantime  could  play  their  trump  card,  and  by 
menacing  Washington  draw  McClellan's  formid 
able  army  away  from  the  banks  of  the  James.  It 
was  far  from  being  a  period  of  discouragement  at 
Union  headquarters,  for  the  Federal  successes  in 
the  West  had  included  the  occupation  of  New 
Orleans,  Baton  Rouge,  Natchez  and  Memphis. 
President  Lincoln  called  for  300,000  additional 
troops,  offering  unheard-of  and  irresistible  boun 
ties  for  recruits.  Federal  legislation  indicated  only 
too  clearly  that,  far  from  any  possible  termination 

of  hostilities  being  in  sight,  the  war  was  to  be  prose- 

187 


i 88  Shenandoah 

cuted  with  new  determination  and  on  a  larger 
scale  than  ever. 

The  set-back  of  McClellan  prompted  Mr.  Lin 
coln,  in  the  first  place,  to  gather  up  the  armies 
which  Stonewall  Jackson  had  scattered  in  the 
Valley,  and  put  them  all  under  the  command  of  one 
officer,  who  should  be  charged  with  the  protection 
of  Washington;  and,  secondly,  to  fortify  his  own 
council  by  the  appointment  of  a  supreme  military 
adviser  who  should  be  commander-in-chief  of  all  the 
Federal  armies. 

For  the  first-named  commission,  Major-General 
John  Pope  was  the  unfortunate  choice.  For  the 
second,  Major-General  Henry  W.  Halleck  was 
brought  out  of  the  West,  and  the  whole  land 
force  of  the  United  States  was  saddled  with  a 
bureaucrat. 

"Pope  in  Culpeper"  became  a  by- word  among 
Virginians  by  inaugurating  a  campaign  logically 
planned  to  obliterate  by  brute  force  the  entire  race 
of  Southern  sympathizers,  whether  combatants 
or  unarmed  citizens,  women,  children  or  slaves; 
and  his  own  soldiers  could  not  help  ridiculing  the 
bombastic  declamations  from  his  "headquarters 
in  the  saddle,"  enjoining  the  troops  who  followed 
him  to  take  no  account  of  strong  positions,  lines 
of  retreat  or  bases  of  supply,  but  to  keep  always 


Lights  and  Shadows  189 

on  the  flank  of  the  enemy,  of  whom  thus  far  he 
had  seen  nothing  but  their  backs. 

He  saw  their  faces,  at  Cedar  Mountain  where 
Jackson  administered  a  signal  defeat;  and  later, 
in  August,  when  Lee  and  Jackson  and  Long- 
street,  who  had  taken  his  measure  from  the  start, 
finished  him  at  Manassas,  on  the  old  battle-field  of 
Bull  Run,  in  a  series  of  quick  actions  which  they 
never  would  have  attempted  against  a  foe  for 
whose  military  prowess  they  had  had  any  real 
respect. 

The  red  battle-flag  of  the  Confederates  floated 
where  the  Federal  standard  but  lately  had  been 
seen;  and  before  the  forest  leaves  were  touched 
by  the  finger  of  autumn,  new  fields  lay  open  to  the 
Southern  army.  Scarcely  had  the  smoke  of  battle 
lifted  a  second  time  from  the  plains  of  Manassas, 
when  the  victorious  columns  of  Lee  and  Jackson, 
of  Longstreet  and  Stuart,  were  headed  towards 
the  Potomac,  for  the  long-awaited  invasion  of 
Maryland. 

Their  reception  in  that  ancient  commonwealth 
was  not  encouraging.  Although  strongly  South 
ern  throughout  the  larger  portion  of  her  territory, 
when  Maryland  was  called  upon  to  decide  by 
actual  conscription  on  which  side  her  proclivities 
lay,  the  response  seemed  to  indicate  indifference, 


Shenandoah 


if  not  hostility,  to  the  Confederate  cause.  There 
were,  however,  many  sympathizers,  even  if  recruits 
were  not  forthcoming  in  noticeable  numbers. 

When,  in  September,  Lee  and  his  generals  en 
tered  Frederick  City,  some  few  Confederate  flags 
were  flung  to  the  breeze.  There  was  at  least  one 
exception,  however,  when  from  a  house  immedi 
ately  overlooking  the  highway  a  young  girl  de 
fiantly  waved  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  in  the  face 
of  the  passing  troops. 

"Take  in  the  gridiron!"  "Down  with  the 
Yankee  colors  !  "  cried  the  foes  of  the  Union. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  General  Lee  himself 
rode  up,  and  witnessed  the  spirited  demonstration 
of  loyalty.  Reining  in  his  horse  to  a  full  stop,  he 
raised  his  hat  in  courteous  salute,  and  said  aloud 
as  he  turned  half  around  with  a  glance  of  rebuke 
to  his  followers: 

"All  honor  to  the  Old  Flag!" 

There  was  a  moment's  throbbing  silence,  in 
which  some  one  told  the  young  patriot  that  the 
handsome,  dignified,  gray-haired  man  who  had 
addressed  her  was  none  other  than  General  Robert 
E.  Lee,  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  invading 
forces.  Her  cheeks  flushed  with  embarrassment, 
her  arm  fell  to  her  side,  and  the  flag  lay  limp  across 
the  window-sill. 


Lights  and  Shadows  191 

"Wave  it  on,  daughter,  wave  it  on,"  repeated 
the  gallant  chieftain,  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a 
father  and  all  the  chivalry  of  a  knight  crusader. 
"No  one  shall  harm  you." 

But  the  hand  and  will  of  the  girl  remained  list 
less,  charmed  to  passivity  by  the  quick  and  noble 
nature  that  war  could  not  brutalize  nor  honest 
opposition  affront. 

Captain  Robert  Ellingham  shared  to  the  full 
the  enthusiasm  of  his  comrades  at  following  "Old 
Jack"  into  Maryland.  To  their  eyes,  the  recep 
tion  of  the  Southern  troops  north  of  the  Potomac 
was  an  ovation — they  refused  to  regard  that  river 
as  a  boundary  line,  because  "between  Virginia 
and  Maryland  there  was  no  division."  There  was 
indeed  great  curiosity  to  see  the  victors  of  Bull 
Run,  of  the  Seven  Days'  Battles  around  Richmond, 
and  of  the  recent  three-days'  combats  on  the  plains 
of  the  second  Manassas.  Jackson's  name,  espe 
cially,  was  spoken  with  superstitious  awe.  The 
first  day  he  set  foot  on  Maryland  soil,  he  was  pre 
sented  with  a  fine,  spirited  horse — too  spirited, 
indeed,  for  at  the  sound  of  firing  the  animal  reared 
and  fell  back  in  a  vicious  attempt  to  kill  its  rider, 
which  very  nearly  succeeded.  Stonewall's  dress 
and  deportment  undeniably  disappointed  the 
Marylanders,  however,  so  that  many  who  had 


192  Shenandoah 

not  seen  him  in  action  opined  that  he  was  "no 
great  shakes  after  all." 

But  General  Lee's  dignified  appeal  to  the  people 
of  Maryland,  and  above  all  his  strict  orders  re 
straining  his  troops  from  depredations,  made  an 
excellent  impression.  The  Confederates  paid  for 
everything,  even  the  fence-rails  they  burned — in 
Confederate  money,  of  course!  Quite  a  few 
tradespeople  consented  to  sell  their  goods  for 
large  "wads"  of  this  currency,  at  prices  several 
hundred  per  cent,  higher  than  "greenback" 
values. 

Before  crossing  over  into  the  rich  fields  of 
Pennsylvania,  one  serious  obstacle  had  to  be 
overcome.  That  was  the  natural  fortress  of 
Harper's  Ferry,  snugly  ensconced  in  the  angle 
formed  by  the  Shenandoah  and  the  Potomac  where 
their  united  waters  break  through  the  Blue  Ridge 
Mountains.  Stonewall  Jackson  negotiated  this 
with  brilliant  success,  while  Lee  cautiously  select 
ed  a  position  on  Antietam  Creek,  near  the  small 
town  of  Sharpsburg,  to  await  the  coming  of  the 
imposing  army  of  old  soldiers  and  new,  veterans 
and  conscripts,  which  the  Washington  Govern 
ment  had  brought  together  and  put  under  com 
mand  of  the  reinstated  General  McClellan,  whose 
sole  order  was  to  "save  the  Capital." 


Lights  and  Shadows  193 

Antietam's  day  of  carnage  passed  into  history 
as  a  drawn  battle,  because  on  the  day  following 
neither  side  felt  strong  enough  to  renew  the 
struggle.  It  really  amounted  to  a  disaster  to  the 
Confederate  army,  having  abruptly  checked  what 
had  looked  like  a  victorious  invasion,  and  demon 
strated  that  Lee's  present  resources  were  entirely 
inadequate  for  offensive  operations. 

The  campaign  of  1862,  leaving  a  trail  of  battle 
fields  from  the  James  to  the  Potomac,  virtually 
ended  here;  and  Lee's  soldiers  returned  to  Vir 
ginia — barefooted,  ragged,  hungry,  gaunt  and 
powder-stained,  yet  still  bright-eyed  with  excite 
ment  and  hope,  wearing  the  invisible  laurels  of  a 
new  record  of  courage  indelibly  impressed  upon  the 
world.  They  had  held  their  own  against  adver 
saries  of  equal  gallantry,  double  their  numbers, 
commanded  with  the  highest  ability,  and  who  like 
themselves  now  retired  from  the  field  crippled  yet 
unconquered,  leaving  honors  and  rewards  to  be 
umpired  by  the  impartial  verdict  of  time. 

In  the  thickest  of  the  battle,  just  before  Jack 
son  and  Stuart  advanced  to  meet  Burnside's  attack 
on  the  Confederate  right,  Bob  EUingham  saw 
General  Lee,  mounted  on  his  gray  charger,  stand 
ing  on  a  large  rock  to  the  right  of  the  Boonsboro* 
road,  seemingly  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  shells 


194  Shenandoah 

were  exploding  around  and  beyond  him.  The 
young  Virginian  thrilled  with  pride  and  admira 
tion — he  thought  he  had  never  seen  so  noble  a 
figure.  As  he  looked,  a  battery  of  the  Rockbridge 
Artillery,  with  three  of  its  four  guns  disabled, 
passed  near  the  knoll,  and  halted  while  its  captain 
approached  the  commander  to  ask  for  instructions. 
General  Lee  dismounted  to  hear  what  this  officer 
had  to  say,  and  several  of  the  artillerymen  gath 
ered  about  to  witness  the  interview.  It  ended 
briefly,  and  as  the  captain  saluted  and  turned 
away,  a  private,  a  mere  boy,  tattered  and  begrimed, 
approached  General  Lee,  who  apparently  had  not 
recognized  him  up  to  that  moment. 

"Why,  Rob,  is  that  you?"  said  the  General, 
in  his  habitual  kindly  tone,  but  without  surprise  or 
emotion.  ' '  I  am  glad  to  see  you  well  and  unhurt. ' ' 

"General,  are  you  going  to  send  us  in  again?" 
asked  the  boy. 

"Yes,  my  son,"  replied  the  father,  with  a  smile, 
"you  all  must  do  what  you  can  to  help  drive  those 
people  back." 

Three  days  after  the  withdrawal  of  the  Southern 
army  from  Maryland,  President  Lincoln  issued  his 
proclamation  of  emancipation  to  the  negro  slaves. 
This  measure,  in  its  war  relation,  was  expected  to 
fan  reactionary  flames  in  the  South,  and  so  aid  the 


Lights  and  Shadows  195 

Federal  arms  in  crushing  the  Rebellion.  Its 
immediate  result  was  to  precipitate  heated  politi 
cal  discussions  at  the  North.  General  McClel- 
lan's  suggestion  to  his  army  that  the  remedy  for 
past  errors  was  at  the  polls  in  the  next  Presidential 
election  naturally  aggravated  the  growing  breach 
between  him  and  the  Washington  administration. 
The  final  outcome  was,  that  early  in  November 
McClellan  was  relieved  from  the  command  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  to  be  succeeded  by  Major- 
General  Ambrose  E.  Burnside,  fourth  successive 
commander  in  the  field  of  the  Union  forces  in  Vir 
ginia,  third  to  head  the  superb  Army  of  the  Poto 
mac  organized  by  McClellan  hardly  more  than  a 
year  previously. 

The  haven  of  the  Confederate  army,  in  that 
autumnal  season  of  1862,  was  the  Valley  of  the 
Shenandoah.  To  Jackson's  men,  especially,  the 
region  was  one  of  memories  and  enchantment. 
The  bracing  mountain  breezes,  the  pure  bright 
skies,  the  home  associations,  and  the  liberty  to 
engage  in  every  species  of  recreation  from  a  fox 
hunt  to  a  camp-meeting  religious  revival,  put  new 
life  into  the  brigade.  They  rested  first  on  the 
banks  of  the  Opequan  Creek  near  Martinsburg, 
then  in  the  vicinity  of  Bunker  Hill  and  Winchester. 

It  was  on  one  of  the  marches  of  this  period, 


196  Shenandoah 

during  a  rainy  spell,  that  Captain  Ellingham,  hav 
ing  forded  a  stream  to  get  into  camp  in  the  pine 
woods  before  nightfall,  received  a  letter  from  his 
sister  Gertrude — the  first  in  a  fortnight  or  more. 
Eager  to  hear  the  news  from  home — and  possibly, 
at  second  hand,  from  his  sister's  correspondent, 
Madeline  West — Bob  asked  a  comrade  to  open  and 
read  the  missive  to  him,  while  he  busied  himself 
with  the  immediate  necessity  of  drying  his  wet 
clothes  by  the  fire. 

"When  we  are  not  dreading  to  hear  that  you 
have  been  wounded  in  battle,"  the  epistle  ran, 
"we  are  worried  about  your  health,  and  the  hard 
ships  you  are  exposed  to.  Now,  Rob,  you  have 
the  socks  I  sent  you — do  try  and  keep  yourself 
warm,  and  never  go  about  with  wet  feet." 

"I  'm  so  glad  she  reminded  me  of  that,"  said 
Bob,  as  the  negro  servant  pulled  off  his  cavalry 
boots,  and  emptied  about  half  a  gallon  of  water 
from  each. 

Before  the  snow  came,  he  had  the  supreme 
delight  of  a  furlough  to  visit  Belle  Bosquet.  War 
had  not  as  yet  made  much  impression  upon  the 
material  comforts  of  the  dear  old  place. 

"So  long  as  we  have  our  own  people  around  us 
and  a  roof  over  our  heads,"  Gertrude  told  her 
brother,  "we  girls  don't  mind  making  our  own 


Lights  and  Shadows  197 

bonnets  out  of  straw  and  rooster-feathers.  As  for 
coffee  and  tea,  and  such  mere  luxuries,  why,  we  're 
only  too  glad  to  do  as  you  do,  in  the  army — parch 
corn  and  peanuts,  and  dry  herbs,  and  that  sort  of 
thing." 

The  deprivation  of  a  thousand  little  feminine 
articles  of  dress  and  refinement,  and  especially  of 
books  and  reading  matter,  shut  out  as  contraband 
of  war,  came  much  harder  upon  the  Southern 
women  than  they  were  willing  to  admit.  Gertrude 
Ellingham,  however,  combined  with  her  fiery 
partisanship  a  lively  spirit  of  fun  and  philosophy, 
which  she  expressed  freely  in  her  unfrequent  but 
voluminous  letters  to  Madeline,  her  bosom  friend 
of  the  far  North.  There  was  a  kind  of  unconscious 
bravado  and  defiance  in  this,  though  not  intended 
by  the  generous-hearted  Gertrude,  nor  suspected 
by  the  gentle  Madeline.  Moreover,  they  both 
loved  to  write  long  letters,  in  order  to  smuggle  little 
intimacies  between  the  lines. 

Miss  Ellingham's  mingled  chronicles  and  confi 
dences  were  framed  up  in  this  fashion: 

"As  our  schools  down  here  are  mostly  without 
teachers,  I  have  put  on  spectacles  (figuratively), 
taken  up  the  birch  rod,  and  am  trying  to  teach  the 
three  R's  to  little  folks  in  this  locality,  in  whatever 
spare  time  I  have.  But  we  are  very  badly  off  for 


198  Shenandoah 

school-books.  Blockade  running  is  precarious  (no 
more  of  it  for  me,  you  may  please  tell  your  Union 
soldier  brother,  when  you  write  him  again) ;  and, 
anyway,  we  prefer  to  make  our  own  versions,  of 
history  especially.  The  books  they  print  down  at 
Charleston  and  Raleigh  are  rather  cheap  and  flimsy, 
and  sometimes  their  back  boards  are  lined  with 
wall-paper — but  then,  they  are  our  own,  and  as 
the  Southern  Confederacy  is  bound  to  succeed 
sooner  or  later,  we  feel  that  we  sha  'n't  want  any 
more  Northern  school-books,  anyway. 

"I  wish  you  could  see  this  'Geographical  Reader* 
for  the  Dixie  children,  which  Bob  has  just  got  me 
from  Richmond.  Oh,  yes,  he  is  quite  well,  and 
as  handsome  as  ever.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  you 
would  be  highly  edified  by  some  of  the  remarks  in 
this  Dixie  history.  For  instance,  here  is  what  it 
says  (of  course,  I  'm  not  expressing  my  own  opin 
ion)  about  your  own  section  of  the  country: 

"'This  Northland  possesses  many  ships,  has 
fine  cities  and  towns,  many  railroads,  steamboats, 
canals,  manufactures,  etc.  The  people  are  ingen 
ious  and  enterprising,  and  are  noted  for  their  tact 
in  driving  a  bargain.  They  are  refined,  and  intel 
ligent  on  all  subjects  but  that  of  negro  slavery; 
on  this  they  are  mad.' 

"It  becomes  quite  serious  when  they  get  into 


Lights  and  Shadows  199 

the  'Questions  and  Answers'  at  the  end  of  each 
reading.  Just  look  at  this — but  don't  blame  me, 
Madeline  dear,  even  if  Captain  West  does: 

"'Q.  What  may  be  said  of  the  United  States? 
A.  It  was  once  the  most  prosperous  country  in 
the  world.  Q.  What  is  its  condition  now?  A. 
It  is  tumbling  into  ruins.  Q.  What  brought 
about  this  great  calamity?  A.  The  injustice 
and  avarice  of  the  Yankee  nation.  Q.  Has  the 
Confederate  States  any  commerce?  A.  A  fine 
inland  commerce,  and  bids  fair,  some  time,  to  have 
a  grand  commerce  on  the  high  seas.  Q.  What  is 
the  present  drawback  to  our  trade?  A.  An 
unlawful  Blockade  by  the  miserable  and  hellish 
Yankees.' 

"There  is  a  Primer  and  an  Arithmetic  to  match 
this  'Reader,'  so  you  see  that  even  in  spite  of  the 
unlawful  Blockade  the  young  idea  in  Dixie  is 
learning  how  to  shoot — now,  you  know  I  don't 
mean  in  the  soldier  way.  Here  is  a  little  lesson 
called  'The  Cane  Mill,' — about  crushing  sugar 
cane  and  sorghum  for  molasses,  you  know: 

'"The  slaves  some- times  will  have  four  or  five 
gal-Ions  by  the  time  the  sea-son  closes.  Well  done 
for  the  dar-kies.  Ma-ny  poor  white  peo-ple  would 
be  glad  of  what  they  leave  for  the  hogs.' 

"  Dear  me !     I  hope  and  pray  such  is  not  the  sad 


2OO  Shenandoah 

case  up  your  way,  Madeline — nor  with  the  armies 
in  the  field.  As  regards  the  latter,  some  terrible 
goings-on  are  set  down  hi  plain  figures  in  the  Dixie 
Arithmetic: 

" '  A  captain  of  cavalry  (Confederate,  of  course !) 
paid  100  for  a  horse  and  100  more  for  a  pistol: 
how  many  dollars  did  both  cost  him?  A  company 
of  100  men  fell  in  an  engagement,  in  which  50  were 
killed.  How  many  escaped?  A  Confederate  sol 
dier  captured  8  Yankees  each  day  for  9  successive 
days:  how  many  did  he  capture  in  all?  If  one 
Confederate  soldier  can  whip  7  Yankees,  how  many 
soldiers  can  whip  49  Yankees? 

"'Currency  is  coin,  bank  bills,  Confederate 
notes,  treasury  notes  etc.,  in  circulation.' 

"Forgive  this  flippancy,  dear — but  we  have  to 
laugh  sometimes,  just  so  we  won't  cry.  Don't 
fail  to  write  me  all  the  news  you  have,  on  either 
side." 

The  respite  of  Jackson's  corps  in  the  Valley 
ended  even  sooner  than  the  halcyon  days  of  Indian 
summer.  General  Burnside,  the  new  Federal 
commander,  suddenly  conceived  the  idea  of  con 
centrating  his  army  on  the  Rappahannock  River 
opposite  the  historic  Virginia  town  of  Fredericks- 
burg.  This  place,  the  scene  of  George  Washing 
ton's  boyhood,  and  where  marble  monuments  on 


Lights  and  Shadows  201 

the  hillside  mark  the  last  resting-places  of  Mary 
and  Martha  Washington,  the  mother  and  wife  re 
spectively  of  the  Father  of  his  Country,  had  ac 
quired  a  strategic  importance,  being  but  sixty  miles 
due  north  of  Richmond,  and  in  easy  proximity  to 
the  Potomac,  whence  the  Federal  commander  by  a 
fifty-mile  water  journey  could  quickly  reach  his 
base  at  the  National  Capital .  Lee  ordered  Jackson 
and  Longstreet  to  Fredericksburg,  and  intrenched 
his  army  on  the  heights  back  of  the  town,  on  the 
same  (right)  bank  of  the  river — knowing  that  the 
enemy,  changing  his  line  of  communication  with 
his  base  of  supplies,  would  require  time  before 
assuming  the  offensive.  The  plans  of  Burnside 
were  indeed  unfathomable;  but  the  calculations 
of  the  Confederate  chieftain  were  fulfilled  to  a 
nicety. 

On  the  morning  of  December  13,  having  brought 
his  army  across  the  Rappahannock  on  pontoons 
directly  in  Lee's  front,  Burnside  opened  attack 
with  misdirected  valor  upon  an  impregnable  posi 
tion,  strong  by  nature  and  made  doubly  so  by 
impeccable  military  art.  A  dense  fog  overhung 
river,  town,  and  plain  until  after  nine  o'clock,  when 
the  sunlight  burst  through,  revealing  in  terrible 
splendor  the  spectacle  of  a  hundred  thousand  men 
in  line  of  battle,  their  bristling  bayonets  gleaming 


202  Shenandoah 

through  the  mist,  while  the  roar  of  three  hundred 
cannon  shook  the  earth  and  sent  red  meteors 
flashing  along  the  sky. 

"  It  is  well  that  war  is  so  dreadful,"  said  General 
Lee,  as  he  looked  upon  the  unparalleled  pageant 
from  his  position  on  Telegraph  Hill, ' '  else  we  should 
become  too  fond  of  it." 

On  came  the  lines  of  blue — the  golden  harp  flag 
of  Meagher's  Irish  brigade  in  the  van,  charging 
across  an  artillery-swept  plain  in  heroic  but  futile 
attempts  to  scale  the  Marye  Heights,  until  the 
field  as  far  as  eye  could  reach  was  covered  with 
Union  dead  and  wounded,  amongst  which  the 
survivors  ran  to  and  fro,  their  ranks  decimated 
by  the  most  withering  fire  that  ever  brave  troops 
charged  upon  undaunted. 

In  vain,  alas!  Again  had  Lee  and  Jackson, 
Stuart  and  Longstreet  fought  a  defensive  battle 
to  the  finish,  and  won  with  absolute  ease,  at  com 
paratively  little  cost.  Burnside  recrossed  the 
Rappahannock  at  night,  under  cloak  of  a  violent 
storm,  with  a  loss  of  more  than  twelve  thousand 
of  the  superb  soldiers  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CROSSING  THE  RIVER 

"  I  am  going  a  long  way,  .  .  . 
To  the  island- valley  of  Avilion; 
Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly;  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  with  orchard-lawns 
And  bowery  hollows  crown'd  with  summer  sea, 
Where  I  will  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound." 

CAPTAIN  Robert  Ellingham,  after  the  battle 
of  Fredericksburg,  found  himself  attached 
to  the  staff  of  General  Jackson,  and  settled  for  the 
winter  at  the  Corbin  estate,  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  Rappahannock,  some  miles  below  the  town. 
The  living  apartment  occupied  by  "Stonewall," 
and  where  he  busied  himself  preparing  with  scru 
pulous  accuracy  the  official  reports  of  his  battles, 
was  not  in  the  mansion  proper,  but  in  a  small  out 
building,  which  evidently  at  an  earlier  period  had 
served  for  the  accommodation  of  some  sporting 
member  of  the  household.  The  walls  were  gaudily 
decorated  with  prints  of  race-horses,  game-cocks, 
and  the  like.  The  General  left  everything  exactly 

as  he  found  it ;  so  that  when  he  received  ministerial 

203 


204  Shenandoah 

visits  or  held  religious  worship  there  on  Sunday 
evenings,  the  incongruity  of  the  surroundings  was 
rather  marked.  The  younger  officers — including 
those  roystering  cavalrymen,  "Jeb"  Stuart  and 
"Fitz"  Lee — used  to  affect  to  be  shocked  at  these 
profane  embellishments,  and  threatened  to  have 
pictures  taken  and  sent  about  labelled:  "View  of 
the  winter  quarters  of  General  Stonewall  Jackson, 
affording  an  insight  into  the  tastes  and  character 
of  the  individual." 

The  spring  of  1863  approached  with  brighter 
prospects  for  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  than 
those  which  had  confronted  it  a  year  previously. 
The  victories  of  Cold  Harbor,  Cedar  Mountain 
second  Manassas  and  Fredericksburg  had  inspired 
new  enthusiasm.  In  Virginia,  two  years  of  hard 
struggle  had  passed,  and  still  the  Federal  armies 
held  no  ground  below  the  Rappahannock.  The 
Confederates  lay  entrenched  along  the  southern 
banks  of  that  river,  their  long  lines  of  pickets  on 
the  qui  vive  to  give  warning  that  any  attempt  to 
cross  would  be  met  as  Burnside's  had  been  met  in 
December.  Meanwhile,  Burnside  had  been  re 
placed  in  the  command  of  the  Union  forces  by 
General  Joseph  Hooker,  sometimes  called  "Fight 
ing  Joe."  President  Lincoln  was  still  searching 
for  a  leader  who  should  "Go  forward  and  give  us 


Crossing  the  River  205 

victories."  To  General  Hooker,  who  undoubtedly 
possessed  qualities  looking  in  that  direction,  the 
Federal  Government  gave  what  he  himself  eulo 
gized  as  "the  finest  army  on  this  planet."  It 
consisted  of  an  aggregate  of  133,700  officers  and 
men — a  numerical  superiority  on  the  field,  then 
and  there,  of  no  less  than  80,000  over  the  forces 
of  Lee  and  Jackson  available  for  the  line  of  battle. 

But,  with  all  his  soldierly  abilities,  Hooker 
proved  incapable  of  conducting  great  operations, 
and  made  the  egregious  mistake  of  underestimat 
ing  his  two  adversaries,  both  separately  and  in 
conjunction. 

He  read  in  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg  the 
blunder  of  his  predecessor  and  rival,  Burnside, — 
not  the  mastery  of  Lee.  To  him,  as  to  many  an 
other,  friend  and  foe,  Jackson  was  a  puzzle,  but 
one  that  he,  Hooker,  felt  confident  he  could  easily 
solve.  There  was,  in  truth,  no  mystery  about 
Jackson,  except  those  two  most  baffling  mysteries 
of  all  to  men  temperamentally  incapable  of  grasp 
ing  the  clews:  sincerity,  and  simple  faith.  It  was 
said  of  him  that  he  "sucked  lemons,  ate  hard-tack 
and  drank  water,  and  regarded  praying  and  fight 
ing  as  the  whole  duty  of  man."  It  was  said  of 
Lee — or,  rather,  misapplied  to  him — in  quotation 
from  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  that  "a  man  of  fine 


206  Shenandoah 

Christian  sensibilities  is  totally  unfit  for  the  posi 
tion  of  a  soldier."  Yet  here,  side  by  side,  stood 
two  of  the  greatest  soldiers  of  the  ages,  who  were 
at  the  same  time  among  the  last  and  noblest  of 
Christian  knights. 

Lee  had  made  Jackson  Lieutenant-General ;  but 
this  promotion  could  add  nothing  to  the  stature  of 
a  man  whose  military  renown  was  so  firmly  estab 
lished  already.  And  the  affectionate  confidence 
subsisting  between  the  chief  and  his  "right  arm," 
as  he  called  Jackson,  was  never  broken.  When 
some  officer  ventured  to  intimate  in  Jackson's 
presence  that  General  Lee  was  slow,  and  that  the 
Confederate  army  needed  as  chief  commander 
such  an  active  leader  as  himself,  who  had  double- 
quicked  his  "foot-cavalry"  through  the  splendid 
Valley  campaign,  Stonewall  was  indignant  rather 
than  pleased  at  the  implied  compliment,  and 
replied: 

"Don't  say  that  General  Lee  is  slow.  He  is 
weighed  down  with  responsibilities,  and  he  knows 
that  if  his  army  is  lost  it  cannot  be  replaced.  But 
if  you  ever  hear  that  said  of  him,  contradict  it  in 
my  name.  I  have  known  General  Lee  for  five- 
and-twenty  years.  He  is  cautious.  He  ought  to 
be.  But  he  is  not  slow.  Lee  is  a  phenomenon.  He 
is  the  only  man  whom  I  would  follow  blindfold." 


Crossing  the  River  207 

Discussing  the  character  of  Jackson,  a  Blue 
Ridge  mountaineer  who  had  known  him  at  Lex 
ington  said  to  Captain  Ellingham: 

"You  see,  Old  Jack  is  one  o'  them  all-fired  pre 
destined  Presbyterians ;  and  he  believes  that  what 
is  to  be,  will  be,  even  if  it  never  happens!" 

Hooker's  well-conceived  plan  for  the  spring 
campaign  was  to  flank  the  Confederate  left  with 
four  of  his  seven  army  corps,  at  Chancellorsville, 
some  eight  or  ten  miles  up  the  Rappahannock 
west  of  Fredericksburg,  while  the  remaining  three 
corps  crossed  the  river  in  Lee's  front,  d  la  Burnside, 
at  Fredericksburg,  and  Stoneman's  cavalry  made 
a  wide  detour  around  the  Southern  left  and  rear, 
throwing  ten  thousand  sabres  between  Lee  and 
Richmond,  cutting  his  communications,  stopping 
his  supplies,  and  being  in  a  position  to  obstruct  the 
Confederate  retreat  until  Hooker  administered 
the  coup  de  grdce. 

' '  Don't  stop  him, ' '  said  Lee  to  Jackson.  ' '  When 
the  enemy  is  busy  making  a  blunder,  he  must  not 
under  any  circumstances  be  interrupted." 

They  readily  perceived  that  with  Hooker  at 
Chancellorsville  and  Sedgwick  three  miles  below 
Fredericksburg,  the  two  wings  of  the  great  Federal 
army  would  be  thirteen  miles  apart,  with  Lee's 
army  directly  between  them. 


208  Shenandoah 

On  May  first,  Hooker,  having  crossed  to  the 
south  of  the  Rappahannock,  started  to  hurl  his 
army  of  four  divisions  on  the  enemy's  flank;  but 
Lee  was  too  quick  for  him,  and  after  a  sharp  en 
counter  at  Tabernacle  Church,  half-way  between 
Chancellorsville  and  Fredericksburg,  Hooker  was 
forced  back  into  the  woods,  there  to  adopt  the  de 
fensive  tactics  that  were  to  lead  to  his  destruction. 
For  then  and  there  the  Confederates  conceived 
the  bold  idea  of  turning  the  tables  upon  him,  by 
flanking  his  right.  General  Lee  directed  Jackson 
to  make  his  arrangements  to  move  early  the  next 
morning  on  a  circuit  pointed  out  to  Stuart  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  B.  T.  Lacy,  a  resident  of  that  locality, 
and  by  which  a  force  might  with  good  luck  be  con 
ducted  around  by  the  Wilderness  Tavern  to  the 
rear  of  the  Federal  right  flank. 

It  was  a  strange,  a  weird  country,  that  wide 
tract  known  as  "the  Wilderness" — bare  fields 
alternating  with  scrub  pines  and  dense,  impene 
trable  thickets,  the  whole  region  wearing  an  aspect 
singularly  drear  and  melancholy.  Along  the  in 
terminable  plank  roads  threading  this  fearsome 
maze,  houses  were  so  few  and  far  between  that  the 
lonely  traveller  might  journey  for  miles  without 
seeing  a  sign  of  human  habitation.  In  the  thick 
woods  at  evening  the  only  sound  was  the  cry  of 


Crossing  the  River  209 

the  whippoorwill,  that  mournful  note  which  was 
the  last  to  greet  the  ears  of  so  many  dying  soldiers 
in  the  night  battles  shortly  to  make  this  sombre 
haunted  waste  more  gloomy  and  terrifying  than 
nature  in  her  fiercest  mood  had  ever  intended. 

That  night  the  Southern  chieftains  had  bivou 
acked  in  a  little  pine  thicket  off  the  Orange  plank 
road.  The  weather  was  chill — an  unusually  nip 
ping  and  eager  air  for  that  advanced  date  of 
springtime — and  there  was  a  general  scarcity  of 
blankets.  General  Lee,  who  never  complained, 
and  who  notoriously  was  "never  really  comfortable 
unless  he  was  uncomfortable,"  slept  tranquilly  in 
an  open  tent  before  a  none  too  generous  fire  of 
smouldering  logs,  and  with  a  noticeable  scantiness 
of  covering.  Captain  Ellingham,  wakeful  from 
the  portentous  excitement  pervading  all  the  South 
ern  camp,  saw  Stonewall  Jackson  at  midnight  arise 
and  lay  his  own  military  cape  over  the  unconscious 
form  of  Lee;  then  return  and  seat  himself  at  the 
foot  of  a  tree  beside  his  own  camp-fire,  as  if  in  deep 
thought  and  not  to  be  disturbed.  Presently  he 
was  sound  asleep,  his  hands  crossed,  his  head 
thrown  back  and  drooping  to  one  side,  like  that  of 
a  weary  but  watchful  lion. 

A  glorious  sunrise  next  morning  illumined  what 
was  destined  to  be  the  last  meeting  and  parting, 
14 


2io  Shenandoah 

in  this  world,  of  Lee  and  Jackson.  Full  of  ardor 
and  excitement,  Jackson  was  astir  at  earliest  dawn, 
preparing  to  start  on  the  great  movement  which 
he  had  mapped  out  in  his  brain  by  the  midnight 
camp-fire.  He  was  to  march  with  nearly  30,000 
troops,  along  the  entire  front  of  the  enemy  and  in 
close  proximity  to  their  lines,  without  being  dis 
covered;  to  make  his  way  by  unfrequented  roads 
and  through  dense  thickets  to  their  flank  and  rear, 
there  to  attack  the  force  of  General  Hooker,  three 
times  outnumbering  his  own.  General  Lee,  mean 
while,  was  to  hold  Hooker's  front  with  only  14,000 
men.  Such  was  the  bold  strategy  of  the  Confed 
erates  at  Chancellorsville.  They  fought  that 
great  battle  in  the  only  way  it  could  have  been 
won,  and  risked  everything  on  the  military  genius 
of  Jackson,  which  in  mastery  of  his  men  and  in  the 
rapid  audacity  of  his  movements  resembled  that 
of  a  Bonaparte,  or  of  a  Caesar. 

The  rough  and  "accidented"  terrene  helped 
Lee  to  make  his  thin  line  quickly  defensible.  The 
scrub  forest  growth  of  the  Wilderness  concealed 
Jackson's  long  circuitous  march  from  the  none  too 
watchful  Federal  army,  whose  ten  thousand  sabres 
of  Stoneman's  command  had  been  sent  on  a  wild- 
goose  chase  instead  of  protecting  the  right  and 
front  of  the  exposed  flank  against  surprise.  - 


Crossing  the  River  211 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Jackson's  van 
had  safely  reached  the  plank  road  three  miles  to 
the  west  of  Chancellorsville.  The  march  had  been 
observed  by  the  Federals,  but  owing  to  the  round 
about  direction  it  had  purposely  taken,  they  sup 
posed  it  was  a  retreat,  not  an  advance.  How 
little  Hooker  had  learned  of  the  character  of 
Stonewall  Jackson,  if  he  still  imagined  it  was  any 
part  of  that  soldier's  philosophy  to  beat  a  retreat 
without  fighting  a  battle! 

Stuart  with  his  cavalry  had  splendidly  covered 
the  movement,  his  black-plumed  hat  another 
helmet  of  Navarre  as  he  rode  ahead  singing:  "Old 
Joe  Hooker,  won't  you  come  out  of  the  Wilder 
ness?"  He  was  ably  seconded  by  General  Fitz 
Lee,  who  now  rode  up  to  inform  Jackson  that  by 
ascending  an  elevation  near  at  hand  he  could  ob 
tain  a  good  view  of  the  position  he  was  about  to 
attack;  while  the  enemy,  if  they  saw  him,  would 
probably  mistake  him  for  a  simple  cavalry  vidette, 
and  would  pay  no  attention  to  him.  So  the  com 
mander  made  a  personal  reconnoissance  from 
a  wooded  hill  overlooking  the  rear  of  the  Federal 
right.  There,  scarcely  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant, 
stretched  the  enemy's  line  of  battle,  with  log  abatis 
in  front,  stacked  arms  in  the  rear,  and  cannon  in 
position,  while  the  soldiers,  off  guard,  lounged 


212  Shenandoah 

about  in  groups,  chatting,  smoking,  and  playing 
cards. 

Bob  Ellingham,  who  rode  behind  his  chief, 
watched  the  color  mount  to  those  bearded  cheeks 
as  Stonewall  saw  that  his  hazardous  ruse  had  suc 
ceeded,  and  that  he  had  effected  a  complete  sur 
prise.  The  General's  lips  moved  but  made  no 
sound,  as  he  sat  on  his  horse  like  a  statue,  with  one 
hand  raised,  in  mute  appeal  to  the  God  of  Battles. 
Then  he  galloped  back  and  wrote  his  last  note  to 
General  Lee: 

"Near  3  P.M.,  May  2,  1863. 
"GENERAL:  The  enemy  has  made  a  stand  at 
Chancellor's,  which  is  about  two  miles  from  Chan- 
cellorsville.  I  hope  as  soon  as  practicable  to 
attack.  I  trust  that  an  ever-kind  Providence  will 
bless  us  with  great  success. 

Respectfully, 
T.  J.  JACKSON,  Lieutenant-General. 

"The  leading  division  is  up,  and  the  next  two 
appear  to  be  well  closed. 

T.J.J." 
"  General  R.  E.  LEE." 

Towards  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  all  was  in 
readiness,  and  Jackson  ordered  his  advance.  Like 
an  avalanche  the  Confederate  rush  descended  upon 
the  Union  line,  driving  everything  before  it,  cap- 


Crossing  the  River  213 

taring  cannon  before  they  could  be  reversed  to  fire, 
rolling  up  whole  divisions  and  hurling  them  back 
upon  the  enemy's  centre,  until  the  Wilderness  was 
an  inferno  of  smoke  and  flame,  of  roaring  guns  and 
trees  crashing  down,  riderless  horses  and  men 
without  arms  running  about  frantically,  mules 
carrying  ammunition  that  exploded  as  they  fled, 
guns,  caissons,  forges,  ambulances,  and  wagons 
tumbled  in  a  mad  terrified  scramble,  as  it  became 
apparent  that  the  brilliant  tactics  of  Lee  and  the 
dashing  execution  of  Jackson  had  succeeded,  and 
Hooker's  right  had  been  irresistibly  forced  back 
upon  his  centre. 

"If  I  only  had  another  hour  of  daylight!"  cried 
Jackson.  He  would  have  completed  his  work  by 
surrounding  the  enemy's  army  in  the  tangled  woods, 
and  cutting  off  its  retreat  to  the  fords  of  the 
Rappahannock.  As  it  was,  the  Federals  finally 
checked  their  flying  columns  and  made  a  stand  at 
Chancellorsville,  whence  they  were  pouring  an 
appalling  artillery  fire  of  double  canister  up  the 
line  of  the  plank  road.  Darkness  or  no  darkness, 
flight  or  resistance,  the  fury  of  battle  was  un 
chained  in  Jackson's  soul,  and  his  cry  was  still 
"Press  on!" 

It  was  moonlight  and  starlight  over  the  Wilder 
ness,  and  at  lulls  in  the  firing  the  whippoorwill  still 


214  Shenandoah 

sounded  its  melancholy  cry.  Jackson,  with  two 
or  three  of  his  staff  officers  and  a  few  couriers  and 
signalmen,  rode  forward  to  reconnoitre  in  advance 
of  the  movement  of  A.  P.  Hill,  whom  he  had  now 
ordered  up  to  take  charge  of  the  pursuit.  In  his 
eagerness  at  this  critical  moment,  he  seemed  to 
have  no  idea  of  a  peril  which  his  staff  officers — 
including  Captain  Ellingham — perceived  with 
startled  apprehension. 

"General,"  one  of  them  finally  said,  as  they 
moved  cautiously  down  the  shadowed  road  to 
wards  Chancellorsville,  "don't  you  think  this  is 
a  pretty  exposed  place  for  you?" 

"No,"  he  replied  quickly,  "the  danger  is  over, 
and  we  must  follow  up  the  enemy.  Go  back  and 
tell  A.  P.  Hill  to  press  right  on!" 

After  this,  no  one  presumed  to  offer  further  re 
monstrance,  and  they  rode  on  in  silence,  peering 
uneasily  through  the  half -darkness,  until  suddenly 
a  volley  of  firing  ahead  seemed  to  indicate  that 
they  had  run  upon  a  Federal  skirmish  line.  The 
General  turned  his  horse,  but  unfortunately  went 
off  the  route  and  toward  the  front  of  some  of  his 
own  troops  who  were  lying  on  their  arms,  and  who 
had  no  idea  that  their  commander  had  passed  be 
yond  the  lines.  They  fired  upon  the  party,  killing 
one  engineer  officer  and  wounding  two  or  three  of 


Crossing  the  River  215 

the  signalmen.  Jackson  turned  about  and  re- 
crossed  the  road  to  enter  his  lines  at  another  point, 
when  another  company  of  Confederates,  belonging 
to  Fender's  North  Carolina  brigade,  delivered  a 
volley  at  short  range,  in  the  confusion  and  darkness. 

Jackson's  horse  bolted,  a  limb  of  a  tree  struck  the 
rider  in  the  face,  and  he  reeled  in  his  saddle. 
Bob  Ellingham  rushed  forward  and  caught  the 
bridle-rein,  while  Captain  Wilbourn  helped  the 
General  to  dismount.  His  left  arm  hung  limp, 
and  the  officers  removed  his  gauntlets,  which  were 
filled  with  the  blood  streaming  from  three  wounds 
received  simultaneously.  General  Hill  rode  up  at 
this  moment,  and  asked  Jackson  if  he  was  seriously 
hurt. 

"I  think  my  arm  is  broken,"  was  the  feeble 
reply.  "I  wish  you  would  get  me  a  surgeon." 

Some  one  produced  a  small  flask  of  spirits  and 
gave  the  wounded  man  a  reviving  drink.  He  did 
not  complain  or  show  any  sign  of  suffering  while 
they  tied  up  his  swollen  arm  in  a  handkerchief, 
awaiting  the  coming  of  a  litter — for  it  was  neces 
sary  to  remove  him  immediately  from  that  spot, 
where  shot  and  shell  again  were  crashing  among 
the  trees — where  two  or  three  of  Jackson's  and 
Hill's  followers  had  been  killed  instantly,  and 
several  others  wounded,  and  where  the  ground 


216  Shenandoah 

was  strewn  with  the  dead  bodies  of  no  less  than 
fourteen  horses. 

General  Hill,  pistol  in  hand,  stood  guard  while 
Ellingham  and  Wilbourn  tried  to  lift  General 
Jackson  from  the  ground,  in  their  arms.  He  was 
very  faint  from  loss  of  blood,  for  an  artery  had 
been  severed;  but  he  shook  his  head,  murmuring: 

"No — if  you  will  help  me  up,  I  can  walk." 

He  dragged  along  a  few  paces,  supported  by  the 
two  officers,  when  Captain  Leigh  arrived  with  a 
litter,  his  horse  having  been  a  moment  before  killed 
under  him  by  a  shell.  As  they  bore  the  stricken 
General  off  through  the  thickets,  some  of  the 
Southern  troops  now  in  motion  to  repulse  the 
advance  of  the  enemy  noticed  the  escort  of  officers 
and  asked  what  was  the  matter. 

"Just  tell  them  it  's  a  Confederate  officer  who 
has  been  slightly  hurt,"  whispered  Jackson. 

Before  they  had  gone  much  farther,  they  met 
General  Fender  and  Colonel  Crutchfield,  Jackson's 
chief  of  artillery,  both  wounded. 

"Great  God!  that  is  General  Jackson!"  ex 
claimed  Fender,  who  was  the  less  injured  of  the 
two.  "Ah,  General,  I  am  sorry  to  see  you 
wounded.  The  lines  here  are  so  much  broken 
that  I  fear  we  will  have  to  fall  back." 

Jackson  raised  his  drooping  head,  and  with  the 


Crossing  the  River  217 

old  flash  in  his  eyes  gave  his  last  order  on  the 
field: 

"You  must  hold  your  ground,  General  Fender! 
You  must  hold  your  ground,  sir!" 

An  ambulance  took  him  to  the  rear,  along  with 
Colonel  Crutchfield,  each  far  more  concerned 
about  the  other's  injuries  than  with  his  own.  At 
the  field  hospital  at  Wilderness  Tavern,  Dr.  Hunter 
McGuire  amputated  Jackson's  left  arm  near  the 
shoulder.  After  the  operation,  Major  Pendleton, 
assistant  adjutant-general,  came  with  the  intel 
ligence  that  General  Hill  had  been  wounded,  and 
that  General  Stuart,  having  taken  command,  had 
sent  to  inquire  after  his  chief,  and  to  ask 
his  instructions.  Jackson's  face  lighted  up  for  a 
moment,  then  relaxed  again,  as  he  murmured 
sadly: 

"I  don't  know — I  can't  tell.  Say  to  General 
Stuart  he  must  do  what  he  thinks  best." 

Early  the  next  morning  a  note  came  from 
General  Lee,  at  the  front,  saying: 

"  I  cannot  express  my  regret  at  the  occurrence. 
Could  I  have  directed  events,  I  should  have  chosen 
to  be  disabled  in  your  stead.  I  congratulate  you 
upon  the  victory  which  is  due  to  your  energy  and 
skill." 

"General  Lee  should  give  the  praise  to  God," 


2i  8  Shenandoah 

said  Jackson,  fervently  happy  at  the  receipt  of 
this  message. 

It  still  remained  for  General  Lee  to  complete 
the  victory  which  Jackson  had  begun;  and  he  did 
so  in  a  series  of  operations  which  occupied  two 
strenuous  days,  and  involved  risks  fully  as  great 
as  Stonewall  had  taken  in  his  great  flanking  move 
ment.  Leaving  Jackson's  corps  under  Stuart  to 
hold  Hooker's  immense  army  in  place  at  Chancel- 
lorsville,  Lee  turned  back  to  help  Early  and  Mc- 
Laws  crush  Sedgwick,  who  was  moving  up  in  his 
rear  from  Fredericksburg  with  a  Federal  force 
of  thirty  thousand  comparatively  fresh  troops. 
Sedgwick  was  duly  driven  across  the  plank  road 
towards  the  Rappahannock,  and  on  the  night  of 
the  4th  made  good  his  escape  across  that  stream, 
and  removed  his  bridges.  The  next  day  Lee 
returned  to  attack  Hooker  at  Chancellorsville.  A 
violent  thunder-storm  was  sweeping  over  the 
Wilderness  at  that  time;  and  when,  at  daybreak 
on  the  6th,  the  reunited  Confederate  forces  ad 
vanced  to  the  assault,  they  found  that  Hooker's 
entire  army,  during  the  tempest  of  the  night  before, 
had  retired  over  the  river. 

General  Jackson,  meanwhile,  had  been  removed 
to  the  Chandler  house,  near  Guinea  Station  on 
the  railroad  from  Fredericksburg  to  Richmond. 


Crossing  the  River  219 

Here  his  wife  and  child  joined  him,  and  he  was  not 
only  comforted,  but  seemed  to  share  with  those 
about  him  the  hope  of  recovery.  Then  came  a 
change  for  the  worse,  and  pleuro-pneumonia  de 
veloped.  It  was,  as  Captain  Ellingham  and  others 
always  believed,  the  sequel  to  the  cold  he  had  con 
tracted  on  the  night  of  the  bivouac  in  the  Wilder 
ness,  when  he  had  thrown  off  his  cloak  to  cover 
the  sleeping  form  of  General  Lee. 

"Pray  for  me,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  "but  always 
remember  in  your  prayers  to  use  the  petition, 
'Thy  will  be  done.'  " 

He  had  always  wished,  he  said,  that  when  his 
time  came  to  die,  it  might  be  on  a  Sunday.  In 
the  event  that  he  should  not  recover,  he  desired 
to  be  buried  at  Lexington,  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia. 
When  delirium  set  in,  he  thought  he  was  back  on 
the  Wilderness  battle-field,  and  at  intervals  he 
would  exclaim: 

"Order  A.  P.  Hill  to  prepare  for  action!  Pass 
the  infantry  to  the  front  rapidly!  Tell  Major 
Hawkes " 

Then  an  expression  of  ineffable  calm  overspread 
his  rugged  features,  and  in  a  tone  of  relief,  with 
closed  eyes,  he  said : 

"  Let  us  cross  over  the  river,  and  rest  under  the 
shade  of  the  trees." 


220  Shenandoah 

Thus  peacefully  he  died,  on  Sunday  afternoon, 
the  loth  of  May.  A  soldier  of  deathless  fame  had 
laid  down  his  stainless  sword  at  the  supreme 
moment  of  victory,  and  gone  to  rest,  in  the  fortieth 
year  of  his  age.  The  prefix  "Old"  with  which 
his  men  habitually  coupled  his  name  was  a  term 
of  affection,  having  reference  to  the  many  battles 
in  which  he  had  led  them  during  the  few  brief 
years  of  his  earthly  life,  and  the  far  briefer  period 
of  his  military  career. 

They  gave  him  a  grand  funeral  at  Richmond, 
and  then  they  brought  him  back  and  laid  him 
where  he  had  wished  to  sleep  his  long  sleep — in 
the  Valley  whose  every  foot  of  soil  was  dear  to 
him,  from  the  source  of  the  beautiful  Shenandoah 
to  where  that  gentle  stream  joins  the  Potomac 
rolling  grandly  to  the  sea. 

On  the  Monday  morning  after  General  Jackson's 
death,  Captain  Ellingham  and  Major  Kyd  Douglas 
of  his  staff  went  to  General  Lee,  as  he  paced  alone  in 
front  of  his  tent  beside  the  Rappahannock,  to  ven 
ture  the  question  of  whether  the  old  Stonewall  Bri 
gade,  or  a  part  of  it,  might  be  permitted  to  accom 
pany  the  cortege  to  Richmond,  as  an  escort  of  honor. 

General  Lee  listened  thoughtfully  to  the  request, 
and  then  paused  a  moment  before  replying,  in  a 
voice  as  grave  and  gentle  as  his  looks : 


Crossing  the  River  221 

"I  am  sure  no  one  can  feel  the  loss  of  General 
Jackson  more  deeply  than  I  do,  for  no  one  has  the 
same  reason.  I  have  lost  a  beloved  friend,  and  an 
invaluable  officer.  Any  victory  would  be  dear, 
at  such  a  cost.  I  can  fully  appreciate  the  feelings 
of  the  men  of  his  old  brigade.  They  have  reason 
to  mourn  for  him,  for  he  was  proud  of  them. 
They  have  been  with  him,  and  true  to  him,  since 
the  beginning  of  the  war.  I  should  be  glad  to 
grant  any  request  they  might  make,  the  object  of 
which  was  to  show  their  regard  for  their  lost 
General.  I  am  sorry  that  the  situation  of  affairs 
will  not  justify  me  in  permitting  them  to  go  with 
his  bier  not  only  to  Richmond,  but  to  Lexington, 
that  they  might  see  him  laid  in  his  last  resting- 
place.  But  it  may  not  be.  Those  people  over 
the  river  are  again  showing  signs  of  movement, 
and  it  is  so  necessary  for  me  to  be  on  hand  that  I 
cannot  leave  my  headquarters  long  enough  to  ride 
to  the  railroad  station  and  pay  my  dear  friend  the 
poor  tribute  of  seeing  his  body  depart." 

Then,  after  telling  the  young  officers  of  the 
orders  he  had  sent  to  Richmond  for  the  funeral, 
General  Lee  continued : 

"His  friends  of  the  Stonewall  Brigade  may  be 
assured  their  dead  commander  will  receive  all  due 
honor.  But,  as  General  Jackson  himself  never 


222  Shenandoah 

neglected  a  duty  while  living,  he  would  not  rest 
the  quieter  in  his  grave  because  even  his  old  brigade 
had  left  the  presence  of  the  enemy  to  see  him 
buried.  Tell  them  how  I  sympathize  with  them, 
and  appreciate  the  feelings  which  prompted  their 
request.  Tell  them  for  me  that,  deeply  as  we  all 
lament  the  death  of  their  General,  yet  if  his  body 
only  is  to  be  buried,  and  his  spirit  remains  behind 
to  inspire  his  corps  and  this  whole  army,  we  may 
have  reason  to  hope  that  in  the  end  his  death  may 
be  as  great  a  gain  to  us  as  it  certainly  is  to  himself. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SHERIDAN 

"If  you  want  a  good  time, 
Jine  the  cavalry, — 
Bully  boys,  hey!" 

|F  the  head  of  Lee's  army  is  at  Martinsburg, 

and  the  tail  of  it  on  the  plank  road  between 

Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville,  the  animal 

must  be  very   slim  somewhere.     Could  you  not 

break  him?" 

So  President  Lincoln  wrote  to  General  Hooker, 
towards  the  middle  of  June.  But  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  was  kept  busy  watching  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia,  and  the  movements  of  the  latter 
set  the  pace  of  action  at  that  time.  Lee  had  sent 
Ewell,  Jackson's  successor  in  command,  to  the 
Valley  to  drive  the  Federal  force  under  Milroy 
out  of  Winchester,  thus  clearing  the  route  for  an 
other  demonstration  towards  Washington.  This 
accomplished,  Ewell  had  entered  Maryland,  fol 
lowed  thither  by  Lee's  other  two  corps  under 

Longstreet   and   Hill.     Then,   even   as  Lee  had 

223 


224  Shenandoah 

calculated,  Hooker  also  marched  northward,  on  a 
line  parallel  to  his  own,  but,  of  course,  much  nearer 
to  Washington.  The  battle  of  Gettysburg  was 
already  planned,  in  embryo;  but  the  Federal  side 
of  it  was  not  to  be  commanded  by  "Fighting  Joe" 
Hooker.  As  soon  as  the  Federal  army  was  ready 
to  cross  the  Potomac,  a  new  leader  was  put  in  the 
saddle,  in  the  person  of  Major-General  George 
Gordon  Meade. 

One  highly  important  and  far-reaching  service 
General  Hooker  had  rendered  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  and  that  was  in  uniting  the  various 
scattered  cavalry  regiments  and  brigades  in  a 
single  cavalry  corps,  and  placing  it  under  separate 
command.  A  great  improvement  in  these  troops 
was  the  result,  and  from  that  time  on  the  cavalry 
arm  of  the  service  constantly  developed  in  effective 
strength.  This  strength  was  of  little  or  no  avail 
to  the  Federals  at  Chancellorsville,  because  prac 
tically  the  whole  corps,  under  Stoneman,  was  de 
tached  from  the  main  body  of  the  army  in  a  series 
of  desultory  raids  and  operations  in  the  rear  of 
the  enemy,  which  came  to  naught.  A  change  was 
then  made,  and  General  Pleasanton  succeeded  to 
the  command.  He  had  some  original  ideas  re 
garding  the  uses  of  cavalry,  and  applied  himself 
energetically  to  the  task  of  perfecting  the  organiza- 


Sheridan  225 

tion  already  commenced.  He  believed  (as  Jenny 
Buckthorn  did,  in  opposition  to  the  views  of  her 
father  the  General)  that  the  young  officers  in 
present  active  service  should  be  first  in  the  line 
of  promotion;  and,  while  this  policy  had  no  ap 
parent  effect  upon  the  fortunes  of  Captain  Hearts 
ease,  it  did  result  in  the  cavalry  divisions  and 
brigades  being  mostly  given  to  youthful  officers 
who  had  grown  up  with  and  been  developed  by 
hard  service  since  the  beginning  of  the  war. 

At  the  outset,  Lieutenant-General  Scott,  then 
in  command,  had  no  use  for  mounted  troops;  and 
those  first  called  into  the  service  of  the  Union  army 
were  raised  under  the  direct  authority  of  the  Presi 
dent,  and  contrary  to  the  advice  of  most  of  the 
officers  holding  high  commands.  Those  officers 
of  the  old  army  who  had  been  in  the  mounted 
service  were  without  experience  in  the  handling  or 
control  of  any  considerable  bodies  of  cavalry,  a 
squadron  having  been  about  the  largest  unit  with 
which  they  were  practically  familiar.  No  partic 
ular  attention  was  given  to  the  drill,  discipline 
or  organization  of  these  troops,  and  their  vital 
necessities  were  looked  after  only  in  a  haphazard 
way  by  their  regimental  commanders.  Until 
General  McClellan  took  them  in  hand,  no  attempt 
was  made  even  at  brigade  organization.  The  rule 
is 


226  Shenandoah 

was  to  assign  one  or  more  regiments  of  cavalry  to 
each  division  of  infantry,  and  leave  them  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  the  division  commander.  He 
would  probably  break  the  regiment  up  in  small 
detachments  to  furnish  orderlies,  couriers,  and 
escorts  for  general  officers,  guards  for  division 
wagon  trains,  and  pickets  to  protect  the  fronts  of 
infantry  lines. 

How  different  this  from  the  modern  idea  of 
cavalry,  or  even  from  that  which  prevailed  almost 
from  the  beginning  in  the  Southern  army,  where 
there  were  more  ready-trained  horsemen  in  the 
rank  and  file,  and  more  natural-born  hereditary 
cavalry  leaders,  of  the  stamp  of  Hampton  and 
Ashby  and  the  younger  Lees,  grandsons  of  Light 
Horse  Harry  of  the  War  of  the  Revolution. 

Cavalry  is,  in  fact,  the  eyes  and  ears  of  an  army. 
On  it  the  army  depends  for  its  information  of  the 
enemy,  its  scouting  and  patrolling,  its  security 
against  surprise ;  also  for  raids  and  reconnoissances, 
and  for  a  large  number  of  other  duties  essential 
to  its  existence  as  a  potent  military  force. 
History — and  that  of  the  Civil  War  of  1861-65 
is  no  exception — shows  that  armies  deficient  in 
cavalry  have  groped  but  blindly  when  opposed  by 
troops  well  provided  for  in  those  essentials  that 
only  an  efficient  cavalry  force  can  provide.  For 


Sheridan  227 

such  efficiency  the  cavalry  must  have  not  only 
adequate  numbers,  but  high  quality.  It  must 
be  sagaciously  organized,  disciplined,  trained.  It 
must  combine  with  mobility  the  makings  of  a 
formidable  firing  line.  The  regulation  cavalry 
soldier  must  be  a  good  shot,  and  a  scout  as  well, 
able  to  take  in  a  tactical  situation  at  a  glance  and 
correctly  report  it.  Above  all  he  must  be  a  swift 
and  expert  horseman,  caring  for  his  mount  and 
getting  the  best  possible  work  out  of  it  under  all  , 
conditions.  Cavalry  should  set  the  example  of 
perfect  cohesion  and  team  work  for  the  entire  army. 

The  lesson  of  the  first  year  of  the  war — learnt 
by  Colonel  Haverill  and  the  three  young  captains 
of  our  acquaintance,  amongst  others, — was  that 
hastily  organized  and  half -trained  cavalry  proved 
not  only  frightfully  expensive,  but  in  battle  some 
what  worse  than  useless.  Two  or  three  years' 
training  for  man  and  horse  alike,  is  required.  The 
cavalryman,  in  the  first  place,  must  learn  every 
thing  that  the  infantry  soldier  has  to  know.  He 
must  equal  the  latter's  ability  to  fight  on  foot. 
Then  he  must  become  a  horseman,  and  the  trainer 
of  a  cavalry  mount.  In  short,  the  ideal  cavalry 
man  is  first  born,  and  then  laboriously  made. 

The  cavalry  corps  organized  in  1863  by  Hooker 
and  intrusted  for  a  brief  period  to  Pleasonton,  was 


228  Shenandoah 

undoubtedly  qualified  to  meet  the  requirements 
here  enumerated,  but  its  opportunity  was  not  im 
mediately  forthcoming.  With  all  his  success  and 
ability,  the  new  commander  of  the  mounted  troops 
found  an  insurmountable  obstacle  in  the  force  of 
tradition  and  custom.  The  old  idea  still  prevailed 
among  the  higher  authorities  of  the  Regular  Army 
that  the  cavalry's  chief  end  was  the  protection, 
convenience,  and  relief  of  the  infantry.  The  new 
corps,  though  nominally  concentrated,  was  not 
yet  really  united  as  a  body.  The  different  divi 
sions  were  still  scattered,  and  the  commanding 
general  was  expected  to  remain  at  headquarters, 
more  to  perform  the  duty  of  a  staff  officer  in  trans 
mitting  orders  than  as  the  actual  leader  of  a  body 
of  combatant  troops.  Under  such  circumstances, 
serious  differences  of  opinion  necessarily  arose 
between  General  Meade  and  General  Pleasonton. 
These  differences,  at  such  a  time,  could  in  the  long 
run  have  but  one  result :  General  Pleasonton  grad 
ually  lost  his  grip  on  his  command,  until  finally 
he  was  constrained  to  give  it  up,  without  having 
had  a  recurrence  of  the  opportunity  that  had  been 
missed  at  Chancellorsville. 

Gettysburg  afforded  no  such  chance  to  either 
side,  for  neither  Lee  nor  Meade  had  their  cavalry 
with  them  when  they  suddenly  found  themselves 


Sheridan  229 

face  to  face  in  Pennsylvania ;  and  when  it  did  arrive, 
on  the  second  day,  it  played  no  decisive  part  in 
the  battle.  The  raids  of  Stuart  and  Kilpatrick 
and  Gregg  at  this  period  and  during  the  subsequent 
campaign  in  Virginia  were  spectacular,  and  per 
haps  had  their  moral  effect;  yet,  as  is  generally 
the  case,  what  they  actually  accomplished  did  not 
compensate  for  the  number  of  broken-down  horses 
and  unavailable  men  charged  to  their  account. 

The  great,  epical,  three-days'  battle  of  Gettys 
burg,  the  most  stupendous  artillery  and  infantry 
combat  that  ever  took  place  on  American  soil,  saw 
the  high- water  mark  of  the  Rebellion:  after 
Pickett's  column  had  dashed  itself  to  pieces  against 
the  iron-bound,  flame-fringed  Union  lines  on  Ceme 
tery  Ridge,  the  tide  began  to  ebb,  slowly  but 
steadily,  back  from  the  hills  of  Pennsylvania  and 
Maryland,  below  the  old  triumphant  lines  of  the 
Potomac  and  the  Rappahannock,  finally  to  cease, 
twenty  months  later,  by  the  remote  banks  of  the 
Appomattox. 

Lee  had  fought,  without  Stonewall  Jackson,  a 
strategic  battle  which  with  Jackson  might  have 
been  a  victory  instead  of  a  defeat  for  the  Southern 
army.  But,  whether  or  no,  the  hour  of  fate  had 
struck.  On  that  same  Fourth  of  July  that  Presi 
dent  Lincoln  sent  fervent  congratulations  to 


230  Shenandoah 

Meade  and  his  generals  at  Gettysburg,  the  in 
formation  came  that  Vicksburg  on  the  Mississippi, 
with  30,000  men,  had  surrendered  to  General 
Grant.  If  Lee's  army  could  be  followed  up  and 
destroyed,  the  war  might  end  then  and  there. 

Lee's  army,  however,  was  not  crushed;  and, 
judging  from  the  leisurely  security  of  its  with 
drawal  from  the  campaign  of  invasion,  it  was  not  in 
a  way  to  be  so  for  many  moons  to  come.  The  twin 
disasters  of  Gettysburg  and  Vicksburg,  indeed, 
must  have  been  a  staggering  blow;  and  yet  the 
Confederate  chieftain  had  really  accomplished 
much  of  what  he  had  in  view  on  leaving  the  Rap- 
pahannock — namely,  removing  the  arena  of  war 
from  the  vicinity  of  Richmond,  relieving  the  Valley 
of  the  presence  of  the  enemy,  and  "drawing  the 
teeth"  of  the  enemy's  army  north  of  the  Potomac. 

The  Federal  army,  cautiously  manoeuvred  by 
Meade,  followed  Lee  into  Virginia,  but  did  not 
attack  him;  and  the  remainder  of  the  summer 
season  was  one  of  welcome  repose  to  both  sides. 
In  the  Fall,  General  Lee  reviewed  the  Confederate 
cavalry,  in  the  presence  of  Governor  Letcher.  It 
was  an  inspiring  occasion — not  only  to  General 
Stuart  and  his  squadrons,  but  also  and  in 
particular  to  Colonel  Robert  Ellingham,  newly 
promoted. 


Sheridan  231 

While  the  United  States  Government  set  on 
foot  preparations  for  prosecuting  the  war  in  1864 
on  a  vaster  scale  than  ever,  in  a  determined  effort 
to  destroy  the  Rebellion  from  centre  to  circumfer 
ence,  the  Confederates  exerted  every  effort  to  make 
the  most  of  their  restricted  resources  in  anticipa 
tion  of  the  great  struggle  that  must  come  in  the 
spring.  The  cavalry  wintered  at  Charlottesville, 
for  the  better  subsistence  of  men  and  horses.  The 
officers,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  got  up  a  dance. 
It  was  a  modest  affair,  but  jolly  in  its  way,  and 
Bob's  thoughts  were  carried  back  irresistibly  to 
the  ball  at  Charleston  the  night  before  Sumter 
was  fired  upon. 

Time,  especially  war  time,  can  work  wonderful 
changes  for  better,  for  worse,  in  a  period  of  less 
than  three  years!  Anyway,  the  young  officer  en 
joyed  the  affair  with  a  soldier's  keen  relish  of  the 
present  moment,  on  the  crest  of  a  wave,  of  life. 
At  the  same  time,  he  did  not  forget  to  send  to 
Madeline  West,  also  to  his  sister  Gertrude  at  home 
in  the  Valley,  the  printed  order  of  dancing,  with 
the  name  of  "Colonel  Robert  Ellingham"  featured 
on  the  committee.  Perhaps — who  could  tell? — 
one  of  these  mementoes  might  fall  into  the  hands  of 
dear  old  Kerchival  West,  Gertrude's  "contraband 
sweetheart,"  in  far  Tennessee !  Also,  Bob  thought 


232  Shenandoah 

with  a  warm  throb  of  affection  of  his  and  Gertrude's 
former  guardian,  the  same  in  cherished  sentiment 
still — Colonel  Haverill.  Colonel  no  longer,  though, 
for  he  had  been  promoted  brigadier-general  for 
conspicuous  gallantry  in  the  stand  against  Ewell 
on  Gulp's  Hill,  the  first  day  of  Gettysburg. 

Strangely,  yet  inevitably,  these  little  details 
concerning  atom  personalities  stood  out  in  magni 
fied  proportions  from  the  mighty  drama  of  the 
life-and-death  battling  of  a  nation! 

At  the  headquarters  of  the  Federal  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  now  encamped  along  the  Rapidan, 
General  Meade  had  a  gorgeous  Solferino  silk  flag 
with  a  golden  eagle  in  a  silver  wreath  emblazoned 
on  it,  flying  over  his  tent.  One  day  in  March,  a 
silent,  shabby-looking,  bearded  stranger  paused 
in  passing  to  gaze  upon  this  splendiferous  emblem, 
as  he  exclaimed  involuntarily: 

"What's  this?  Is  imperious  Caesar  anywhere 
about  here?" 

The  bearded  stranger  was  Lieutenant-General 
Ulysses  S.  Grant,  newly  commissioned  in  command 
of  all  the  armies  of  the  United  States.  The 
Washington  authorities  had  finally  come  to  the 
decision  that  their  immense  plans  of  campaign 
should  be  put  under  one  head  for  execution.  Such 
head  must  necessarily  be  a  hard  and  stubborn  one. 


Sheridan  233 

It  rested,  in  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Lincoln  and  of 
others  high  in  the  Federal  councils  of  war,  upon 
the  sturdy  shoulders  of  the  conqueror  of  Vicksburg. 
General  Grant  was  not  addicted  to  high  military 
strategy,  but  for  direct  tactics  and  plain  fighting 
he  was  undoubtedly  a  match  for  General  Lee. 
Possessed  of  courage  and  character,  combined  with 
modesty  and  self-reliance  unaffected  either  by 
fawning  flattery  or  by  prejudiced  public  opinion, 
he  was  a  soldier  who  could  be  trusted,  with  superior 
force  and  unlimited  resources,  eventually  to  wear 
out  the  foes  of  the  Union  by  mere  power  of  attri 
tion,  should  no  other  means  avail. 

The  first  important  vacancy  now  to  be  filled  in 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  that  of  commander 
of  the  cavalry  corps.  Pleasonton's  finish  had  come 
some  months  before — when  in  the  pursuit  of 
the  Confederate  army  into  Virginia  after  Gettys 
burg,  he  had  presumed  to  put  to  Meade  a  proposi 
tion  couched  in  terms  like  these:  "General,  I  will 
give  you  an  hour  and  a  half  to  show  yourself  a 
great  general.  Order  the  army  to  advance  while 
I  take  the  cavalry,  get  in  Lee's  rear,  and  we  will 
finish  the  campaign  in  a  week."  Meade  not  only 
declined  thus  to  show  himself  a  great  general,  but 
he  put  an  effectual  quietus  upon  Pleasonton's 
chances  of  ever  becoming  one. 


234  Shenandoah 

When  Grant  asked  for  a  chief  of  cavalry,  Halleck 
suggested  General  Philip  Sheridan,  who  had  served 
with  distinction  under  his  own  command  in  the 
West,  and  under  Grant  at  Chattanooga.  The 
suggestion,  therefore,  was  one  after  Grant's  own 
heart,  and  he  promptly  adopted  it.  The  general 
belief,  indeed,  was  that  Grant  himself  had  selected 
Sheridan,  though  such  did  not  happen  to  be  the 
case. 

The  appointment  carried  little  prestige,  so  far 
as  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  concerned. 
Sheridan's  name  had  not  been  previously  associ 
ated  with  the  cavalry  service.  Moreover,  experi 
ence  thus  far  had  not  particularly  induced  the 
belief  that  the  West  was  the  quarter  from  which 
bringers  of  success  and  victory  might  be  expected 
to  come. 

Personally,  Sheridan  was  not  an  imposing  figure. 
Short  and  slight,  he  looked  even  younger  than  his 
age,  which  was  just  past  thirty.  He  was  reticent 
in  speech  and  manner,  and  to  a  casual  observer 
seemed  lacking  in  the  essential  qualities  of  a 
cavalry  leader,  which  had  distinguished  such  officers 
in  the  Federal  service  as  Sumner,  Sedgwick,  Mc- 
Clellan,  Thomas,  Stoneman,  and  others. 

His  own  men  in  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland 
knew  him  better,  however;  and  upon  taking  leave 


Sheridan  235 

of  his  division  to  proceed  to  Washington  in  response 
to  General  Grant's  sudden  call,  he  received  abun 
dant  evidence  of  their  good-will  and  affection. 
Kerchival  West  participated  in  this  leave-taking. 
The  significance  of  the  call  at  that  time  was  un 
known  to  him,  to  the  division,  even  to  Sheridan 
himself.  Kerchival  regretted  to  lose  a  commander 
whom  he  had  so  enthusiastically  followed  among 
the  mountains  of  Tennessee;  yet,  for  personal 
reasons  which  we  know,  he  still  thanked  his  stars 
that  he  himself  was  not  going  to  fight  in  Virginia. 
How  quickly  human  destiny,  particularly  when 
complicated  with  the  fortunes  of  war,  may  change 
the  whole  chart  of  our  likes,  dislikes,  prejudices, 
and  preferences,  he  was  to  learn  sooner  than  he 
anticipated. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WHIRLING  THROUGH  WINCHESTER 

"They  had  parted  all  too  soon:  just  when  the  fire 
Of  each  heart's  passion  sparkled  in  their  eyes; 

Just  when  the  bloom  of  all  young  life's  desire 

Had  tinged  their  warm  cheeks  with  its  tell-tale  dyes; 

Just  when  life's  finger  struck  the  trembling  lyre 
And  woke  the  sound  that  all  too  quickly  dies, 

Yet  never  died  with  them  that  hour  they  parted, 

And  each  passed  on  in  silence,  hopeful-hearted." 

~*\OES  Sheridan  say  if  he  has  a  free  hand  he 
*""^  can  beat  the  enemy's  cavalry  ? ' '  asked  Gen 
eral  Grant  of  General  Meade,  a  few  days  after 
crossing  the  Rapidan  into  the  Wilderness,  sixty 
miles  from  Richmond,  to  fight  his  way  to  the  James. 
"Then  let  him  go  ahead  and  do  it." 

That  settled  the  dispute  between  Meade  and 
the  new  cavalry  commander,  and  thereafter  the 
three  divisions  of  the  reorganized  Federal  mounted 
force,  under  Generals  Torbert,  Gregg,  and  Wilson, 
had  comparatively  loose  rein.  The  cavalry  gave 
a  fairly  good  account  of  itself,  but  it  found  little 
or  no  opportunity  for  concentrated  action  in  a 

region  where  now  Grant's  infantry  hordes  got  in 

236 


Whirling  through  Winchester     237 

each  other's  way,  even  as  Hooker's  had  in  that 
same  Wilderness,  around  Chancellorsville.  The 
sanguinary  horrors  of  the  year  before  were  renewed 
at  Spottsylvania  and  the  "bloody  angle,"  but  they 
could  not  stop  Grant.  He  could  keep  up  his 
"hammering"  process  all  summer  if  necessary, 
because  the  resources  of  the  Federal  reservoir  of 
human  supply  were  so  much  greater  than  those  of 
the  Confederates,  that  he  could  afford  to  lose 
three  men  to  Lee's  one,  and  still  ultimately  beat 
him.  At  Cold  Harbor,  the  old  McClellan  battle 
ground,  the  Federal  losses  came  near  to  wiping  out 
even  this  liberal  margin. 

Meanwhile,  Sheridan  found  his  long-awaited 
opportunity  in  a  grand  raid  towards  Richmond, 
with  an  overwhelming  force  including  the  enter 
prising  brigades  of  Custer  and  Merritt ;  the  object 
being  to  tear  up  Lee's  communication  with  his 
capital,  and  to  be  in  a  position  to  despatch  the 
remainder  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia — if 
Grant  had  defeated  it  in  the  Wilderness.  This 
latter  part  of  the  programme  was  never  carried 
out;  but  in  opposing  it,  at  Yellow  Tavern,  only  a 
few  miles  from  Richmond,  the  Confederates  lost 
their  gallant  cavalry  leader  and  beau  sabreur,  the 
incomparable  Stuart. 

Bob  Ellingham  cried  like  a  child  over  this  sad 


238  Shenandoah 

casualty,  and  declared  that  nothing  would  ever 
be  the  same  to  him  in  the  army  again.  He  re 
peated,  more  bitterly  than  before,  what  he  had 
written  to  Gertrude  when  Ashby  fell:  "Is  it  worth 
while?" 

Relentlessly,  the  war  went  on.  Lee  a  second 
time  had  checked  the  Federal  forces  at  the  gate 
of  Richmond.  Grant,  in  the  middle  of  June, 
settled  down  in  front  of  Petersburg,  determined 
to  "fight  it  out  on  that  line,  if  it  took  all  summer." 
It  did.  In  fact,  the  siege  was  destined  to  last  ten 
long,  weary  months. 

General  Lee  sent  as  large  a  force  as  he  dared 
detach,  under  Early,  once  more  to  march  down 
the  Shenandoah  Valley  and  threaten  Washington. 
This  move  succeeded  to  the  extent  of  keeping  a 
large  force  from  Grant's  army  to  defend  the  Na 
tional  Capital ;  but  Early  was  not  strong  enough  to 
press  the  attack.  The  Federal  force  was.  Or 
ganized  into  the  Army  of  the  Shenandoah,  it  was 
placed,  on  the  first  of  August,  under  the  command 
of  General  Philip  Sheridan. 

Sheridan's  orders  from  Grant  were  to  press 
Early  and  cut  Lee's  communications  by  which  he 
got  supplies  from  the  rich  Valley  for  his  dwindling 
army.  This  was  a  large  contract  for  the  young 
commander  of  the  Army  of  the  Shenandoah.  If 


Whirling  through  Winchester     239 

he  could  fulfil  it,  Richmond  was  doomed  and  the 
days  of  the  Confederacy  were  numbered.  More 
over,  this  was  the  region  where  the  prestige  of  the 
Federal  arms  most  sorely  needed  rehabilitation. 
For  three  years  the  Confederate  troops  marching 
up  and  down  the  Valley  had  had  things  pretty 
much  their  own  way.  They  had  on  four  occasions 
made  use  of  this  natural  avenue  of  approach 
to  menace  Washington.  They  had  whipped  all 
Union  troops  sent  to  oppose  them  at  any  point 
south  of  the  Potomac  River,  capturing  their  sup 
plies  and  taking  many  prisoners,  and  from  this 
vantage  ground  were  still  able  to  paralyze  the 
operations  of  the  Federals  in  Virginia.  The  moral 
effect  of  these  unvarying  Southern  successes  upon 
the  people  of  the  North  was  simply  disastrous. 

Hence  the  desirability,  as  Grant  said,  of  Sheri 
dan's  driving  the  enemy  out  of  the  Valley,  and 
of  leaving  nothing  there  to  invite  their  return. 
With  some  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  task  before 
him,  but  confident  in  the  strong  backing  and  broad 
discretion  given  him  by  the  Lieutenant-General, 
Sheridan  made  his  plans  to  "sweep  the  Valley  so 
clean  that  a  crow  flying  over  it  would  have  to  carry 
its  rations." 

The  defenders  met  this  move  with  a  relatively 
small  force,  but  including  as  many  troops  as  pos- 


240  Shenandoah 

sible  who  had  previously  tramped  the  Winchester 
Pike  with  Stonewall  Jackson's  "foot  cavalry." 
Among  these  youthful  veterans  now  led  by 
Jubal  Early,  was  Colonel  Robert  Ellingham, — still 
"Bob"  to  his  Virginia  comrades,  as  once  again  he 
faced  homeward. 

Homeward,  indeed,  he  marched — yet  with 
strange  feelings  of  anxiety  and  depression.  What 
if  the  ill  turn  fortune  had  taken  of  late  pursued 
them  now  even  beyond  the  Blue  Ridge  mountain 
walls?  Far  south,  in  Georgia,  Sherman's  army 
was  marching  victoriously  to  the  sea.  The  Con 
federacy  had  been  cut  in  twain  by  the  fall  of 
Vicksburg,  and  again  by  the  loss  of  Atlanta.  Now 
Sheridan  proposed  to  establish  a  line  of  communi 
cation  with  his  base  of  supplies  at  Washington 
that  would  subdivide  Virginia,  and  isolate  Rich 
mond.  The  hardships  as  well  as  the  horrors  of 
war  were  now  coming  home  to  the  people  of  the 
Valley  as  never  before. 

But  ripened  summer  was  all  around,  and  out 
ward  peace  and  plenty  abounded,  that  late  August 
afternoon  when  Ellingham  galloped  up  the  sunlit 
linden  avenue  to  Belle  Bosquet.  Gertrude  rushed 
out  from  the  veranda  to  meet  him.  She  was  rein 
forced  by  a  buxom  and  animated youngperson  wear 
ing  a  blue  dress  of  military  cut,  and  a  soldier's  cap. 


Whirling  through  Winchester     241 

"Why,  Miss  Buckthorn!"  exclaimed  Bob,  fling 
ing  himself  from  the  saddle  and  throwing  the  bridle 
of  his  horse  to  Josephus  Orangeblossom,  the  negro 
ostler,  who  grinned  an  effusive  dental  welcome. 
"  It  is  a  delightful  surprise  to  see  you  here — makes 
me  think  the  war  is  over." 

"Thank  you,  Lieutenant — oh,  pardon  me!  I 
mean  Colonel  Ellingham,  of  course,"  responded 
Jenny.  "Heartsease  has  come  over  to  the  Valley, 
and  so  has  papa,  with  General  Sheridan.  I  hope 
there  won't  be  any  serious  misunderstanding. 
Meanwhile,  I  am  a  prisoner  of  hospitality,  and 
I  'm  in  no  hurry  to  be  exchanged." 

"And  now,  Robert,"  Gertrude  went  on,  eagerly, 
"prepare  yourself  for  more  news.  Someone  else 
whom  you  know  is  coming " 

' '  Madeline— but,  no ! ' ' 

" But,  yes!  How  did  you  think  of  it?  She  was 
in  Washington,  visiting  Mrs.  Haverill,  and  I  urged 
her  to  come  over  here  and  see  us — that  was  before 
I  knew  of  General  Sheridan's  intentions,  they  keep 
their  plans  so  secret,  you  know! — but  Madeline 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  she  's  coming,  any 
way." 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Bob,  flustered  out  of  all  self- 
control.  "Well,  Sis,  that 's  a  big  surprise  you  've 
sprung — and  now,  let 's  see  what  I  can  do  in  the 

16 


242  Shenandoah 

same  line.  You  have  announced  Madeline,  may 
be  I  can  give  you  some  information  about  her 
brother  Kerchival." 

Gertrude  uttered  a  little  cry,  and  her  hand 
trembled  as  she  laid  it  impulsively  upon  her 
brother's  shoulder. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  with  sudden  seriousness, 
"you  know  Sheridan  is  bringing  over  a  lot  of  peo 
ple.  He  has  the  whole  Sixth  Corps  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  under  Major-General  Wright,  I  un 
derstand,  besides  a  division  of  the  Nineteenth 
Corps,  and  I  don't  know  how  much  of  the  Army  of 
Western  Virginia,  with  General  Crook.  Moreover, 
they  say  he  is  especially  strong  in  cavalry,  under 
Torbert,  with  such  brigadier  troopers  as  Wilson, 
and  Merritt,  and  Custer.  Our  General  Early  has 
got  some  reinforcement  from  Longstreet's  corpsf 
and  will  try  to  make  it  interesting  for  Sheridan, 
when  he  comes  down  Winchester  way.  Yes,  girls 
— as  I  was  saying,  we  expect  to  have  rather  a  busy 
time." 

Poor  Bob  said  this  in  an  off-hand  flippant  tone, 
but  he  was  in  an  agony  of  apprehension  lest  he 
should  be  far  away  from  Belle  Bosquet  when 
Madeline  West  arrived — if,  indeed,  she  did  safely 
reach  that  destination. 

His  fears,  in  regard  to  the  first  part  of  the  propo- 


Whirling  through  Winchester     243 

sition,  were  quickly  realized.  .  The  very  next  day 
he  was  ordered  to  join  his  regiment  at  Shepherds- 
town,  on  the  Potomac,  where  the  Federal  Army 
was  starting  its  vigorous  offensive  campaign. 

Madeline  West,  as  gentle  and  loving  as  she  was 
loyal  and  courageous,  came  to  the  Valley  on  the 
first  day  of  September,  with  the  first  mellow  mists 
of  gold  on  the  Massanutten  Mountains.  Her 
welcome  at  Belle  Bosquet  made  the  place  seem 
strangely  dear  to  her,  from  the  first  moment  she 
crossed  its  threshold.  She  and  Gertrude,  bound 
by  mutual  ties  to  something  almost  dearer  than 
sisterhood,  centred  their  eager  interest  on  the  mo 
mentous  but  vague  military  activities  in  progress 
to  the  northward.  So  did  Jenny  Buckthorn,  in 
her  own  way,  which  was  a  bluff  and  breezy  one, 
enlivened  with  an  inexhaustible  flow  of  animal 
spirits. 

The  old  Virginia  homestead,  the  kindly  aged 
people  of  the  household  and  neighborhood — there 
were  no  young  ones,  on  the  male  side,  at  least — 
and  the  quaint  old-fashioned  negroes,  took  a  strong 
hold  upon  the  Boston  girl's  affections.  The  fact 
that  she  was  a  Northerner,  and  a  guest  amidst 
troublous  surroundings,  gave  her  special  claims 
upon  their  hospitality, — and  besides,  they  liked 
her  for  her  own  winsome  sake. 


244  Shenandoah 

Gertrude's  more  demonstrative,  ardent  and  ag 
gressive  temperament,  while  still  uncompromising 
so  far  as  the  principles  involved  in  the  war  were 
concerned,  was  inconsistently  softened.  Love 
in  vain,  heart- throbbings  repressed,  fond  hopes 
ruthlessly  deferred,  had  wrought  their  trans 
formation. 

She  and  Madeline  were  visiting  the  home  of  one 
of  the  children  to  whom  Gertrude  still  conscien 
tiously  acted  as  school-teacher,  and  enlisted  her 
friend's  aid  in  the  work,  with  those  queer,  red-hot, 
rebel  school-primers.  The  mother  was  a  widow. 
Her  husband  had  been  killed  at  Gettysburg.  His 
captain's  sword  hung  over  the  mantel.  The  little 
boy  proudly  pointed  it  out  to  the  visitors,  saying : 

"That  is  my  papa's  s'ode.  When  I  grow  up  to 
be  a  man,  I  'm  going  to  take  it  down  and  kill  the 
Yankees  with  it." 

"Hush!"  commanded  his  mother,  putting  her 
hand  over  his  mouth.  "There  won't  be  any  more 
war,  when  you  are  a  man,  I  hope." 

"I  pray  to  God  it  may  be  over  long  before  that 
time,"  said  Madeline,  tenderly. 

"Amen  to  that!"  Gertrude  responded.  "Oh, 
Madeline!  and  when  it  is  over,  as  brother  Robert 
himself  says,  what  good  will  it  do?" 

"I    know   it,"    sighed   the   Southern   soldier's 


Whirling  through  Winchester     245 

widow,  furtively  brushing  away  a  tear.  "Still, 
I  'm  proud  of  what  my  husband  did,  and  I 
would  n't  have  had  him  out  of  it — I  would  n't 
have  had  him  a  coward.  As  you  say,  though,  I 
feel  that  the  war  somehow  is  wrong.  And  I  'm 
sorry,  too,  for  every  Northern  woman  who  has  a 
fatherless  boy  like  this  one  of  mine,  and  a  sword 
like  that  hanging  on  the  wall." 

"Mamma,"  said  the  boy,  "are  you  sorry  for 
the  Yankees?" 

"I  'm  sorry,  my  child,  for  all  little  boys  and  girls 
who  have  n't  any  papa,  and  I  'm  sorry  for  their 
mammas.  And  I  don't  want  you  ever  to  think 
you  have  got  to  kill  anybody." 

When  they  related  this  incident  upon  their 
return  to  Belle  Bosquet,  Jenny  Buckthorn  said : 

"That 's  the  stuff.  A  sword  's  a  sword,  and  a 
cavalry  sabre  's  a  slasher,  and  the  only  thing  that 
counts  is  the  kind  of  man  that  slings  it.  Which 
ever  side  it  happens  to  be  on,  it 's  all  right,  if  he  's 
all  right.  Why,  only  three  or  four  years  ago, 
Captain  Heartsease,  then  lieutenant,  and  Lieu 
tenant  Ellingham, " 

"And  Lieutenant  West,  now  Colonel,"  inter 
rupted  Gertrude. 

" — were  all  three  fighting, — or  anyway,  learn 
ing  to  fight — under  the  same  flag.  Look  at  them 


246  Shenandoah 

now!  And  yet,  they  're  all  three  bully  boys, 
hey?" 

There  were  two  old  swords  crossed  over  the 
mantel  at  Belle  Bosquet.  One  was  an  antique 
English  blade  that  an  Ellingham  had  carried  under 
Cromwell.  The  other  was  the  sword  of  an  an 
cestral  Boiling,  who  had  been  a  soldier  of  Washing 
ton's  in  the  American  Revolution.  The  history  of 
these  honored  relics  was  duly  related  to  the  young 
people  by  venerable  Captain  Boiling,  Gertrude's 
grand-uncle. 

"I  am  a  believer  in  State's  rights,"  the  old  man 
would  say,  "and  I  am  a  Secessionist,  I  suppose. 
But,  I  hate  to  fight  the  old  flag.  You  see  yonder 
sword  of  Colonel  Boiling?  Well,  he  saved  the  old 
flag  once,  and  gave  up  his  life  for  it,  too.  He  is 
buried  over  at  Charlottesville,  t'other  side  of  the 
Ridge,  and  wrapped  in  the  folds  of  the  very  flag  he 
snatched  from  the  hands  of  the  Britishers.  If  you 
were  to  open  his  grave  to-night,  you  would  find  his 
bones  with  that  same  emblem  for  a  winding  sheet. 
Yes,  I  'd  hate  like  sixty  to  fight  agin  the  old  flag." 

"Then,  Captain,"  said  Jenny  Buckthorn,  "it 
is  just  as  well  that  your  age  lets  you  out  of  service 
in  the  field,  even  though  the  Confederates  are 
robbing  the  cradle  and  the  grave  to  put  more 
troops  to  the  front." 


"  Our  brave  b'yes  have  wiped  out  the  enemy,  and 
got  away  with  the  papers!  " 
Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 


Whirling  through  Winchester     247 

The  old  man  flashed  up  in  an  instant. 

"No,  girl,  don't  say  that.  So  long  as  there  is 
fighting  going  on,  I  only  wish  I  were  young  and 
strong  enough  to  take  down  that  sword  and  go  and 
follow  General  Lee.  Our  Valley  is  invaded." 

The  next  day,  Jenny  was  seated  outdoors  under 
a  big  cotton-wood  tree  overlooking  a  broad  stretch 
of  the  Valley,  with  Winchester  Pike  threading  the 
middle  distance,  and  Three  Top  Mountain  looming 
in  the  background.  She  was  trying  to  pick  out 
on  the  banjo  an  accompaniment  to  her  favorite 
song: 

"The  trooper's  horse  and  his  sabre  true, 

Huzza  I   huzza  I 
Are  the  Army's  pride,  be  they  many  or  few, 

Huzza! 

The  bugles  call  and  the  guidons  wave, 
And  it's  '  Right  front,  charge!'  for  the  squadrons  brave, 
And  the  flash  of  the  cavalry  sabre." 

She  had  noticed  some  clouds  of  dust  and  rather 
more  movement  of  traffic  than  usual,  up  the  main 
highway  of  the  Valley.  She  was  about  to  go  to  the 
house  for  a  field-glass,  when  black  Josephus  came 
clattering  up  on  a  mule.  In  half  a  minute  the 
whole  household  were  listening  breathlessly  to  the 
tidings  he  brought : 

"  It 's  de  Lor's  truth,  de  Yankees  have  done  druv 
de  army  out  from  Winchester." 


248  Shenandoah 

The  astounding  announcement  was,  indeed, 
true — and  it  proved  to  be  only  a  part  of  a  long  tale 
of  Confederate  reverses,  the  upshot  of  which  was 
that  Early  had  been  defeated  with  heavy  loss  by 
Sheridan  at  Opequan  Creek,  and  was  in  precipitate 
retreat  southward,  to  join  with  reinforcements 
supposed  to  be  advancing  to  meet  him  somewhere 
about  Strasburg. 

"I  wonder  where  Robert  is?"  gasped  Gertrude. 

Madeline,  blanched  and  silent,  wondered  too. 

As  it  befell,  Robert  at  that  moment  was  all  right. 
He  was  quartered  at  the  old  Chalybeate  Inn 
at  Strasburg,  and,  with  a  miscellaneous  group 
of  Virginians  and  others  of  Southern  affinities, 
was  discussing  the  immediate  prospects  of  the 
Confederacy. 

"Looks  mighty  skeery,"  ventured  one  youthful 
officer,  in  a  gray  coat  and  dingy  slouch  hat  that 
passed  for  the  Confederate  uniform. 

A  white-haired  man,  in  civilian  garb,  sprang  up 
excitedly  from  his  comfortable  chair,  and,  with 
eyes  flashing  fire,  while  his  facial  expression  ran 
the  whole  gamut  of  anger  and  disdain,  shouted  in 
a  stentorian  voice  to  the  discomfited  lieutenant : 

"Dam  up  Niagara  Falls  with  tissue-paper — 
bottle  the  Atlantic  Ocean  in  a  whiskey  flask — 
paste  'To  Let'  on  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars — catch 


Whirling  through  Winchester     249 

a  flash  of  lightning  between  your  thumb  and 
finger — build  a  worm  fence  around  a  winter  supply 
of  summer  weather — harness  a  thunderbolt  to  a 
sulky — waft  the  clouds  of  night  out  of  the  sky  with 
a  lady's  fan — saddle  and  ride  a  hurricane — pack  up 
all  the  planets  in  a  tobacco-pouch — knock  a  tor 
nado  out  of  time  with  your  fist — put  the  sky  in 
your  vest-pocket,  and  unbuckle  the  belly-band  of 
eternity — but  never,  never,  sir,  allow  yourself  to  be 
persuaded  for  a  single  moment  that  the  North  or 
any  other  man  can  ever  lick  the  great  Southern 
Confederacy!" 

The  white-haired  exhorter  was  Major  Edmund 
Ruffin. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  STRANGE  FORTUNES  OF  WAR 

"My  journeyings  are  long, 

My  slumbers  short  and  broken; 
From  hill  to  hill  I  wander  still, 
Kissing  thy  token. 

"I  ride  from  land  to  land, 

I  sail  from  sea  to  sea; 
Some  day  more  kind  I  fate  may  find— 
Some  night,  kiss  thee. " 

"DERSIMMONS  are  dead  ripe— just  tinged 
with  purple  over  the  gold — and  the  chinka 
pin  nuts  are  bursting  out  of  their  prickly  little 
burrs,"  pouted  Jenny  Buckthorn, — "and  oh!  what 
a  day  for  a  fox  hunt.  But  what 's  the  use?  we 
can't  have  any  fun,  with  all  this  manoeuvring 
going  on.  Why  don't  they  fight  it  out  and  have 
done  with  it?" 

"That 's  what  I  have  been  asking,  these  three 
years  past,"  sighed  Gertrude  Ellingham.  "One 
army  or  another  has  been  marching  up  or  down 
the  Valley  continuously,  all  that  time.  Now  we 
have  them  both,  right  around  us.  A  month  ago, 

our  army  was  away  up  north  of  Winchester.     I 

250 


The  Strange  Fortunes  of  War    251 

understand  now  the  Federals  have  their  lines  far 
to  the  south  of  this  place,  along  Cedar  Creek. 
What  next,  I  wonder?  We  are  certainly  getting 
more  than  our  share  of  the  war,  here  in  the  Valley. " 

"It  is  pretty  much  the  same  up  North,  and  in 
Washington,"  said  Madeline.  "But  everybody 
says  there  will  be  peace  in  the  Valley  after  this 
campaign." 

"Peace,  yes!  But  that  means  that  we  South 
erners  will  have  to  pay  the  price. " 

"The  North  has  to  suffer,  too.  But  to  change 
the  subject,  dear  Gertrude,"  pleaded  Madeline, — 
"it 's  a  fine  thing  that  General  Buckthorn  is  com 
manding  the  Nineteenth  Corps,  so  that  Jenny  and 
I  could  get  permission  to  come  out  here  and  visit 
you." 

' '  Yes,  Jenny 's  in  the  saddle,  as  she  says.  Made 
line,  I — I  wish  my  brother  Robert  were  here,  too. 
It  was  an  awful  disappointment  to  him,  to  be 
ordered  away  just  as  you  were  expected.  Do  you 
remember  that  morning  in  Charleston,  when — 
well,  when  I  told  you  that  Robert  loved  you?" 

"He  told  me  so  himself, "  said  Madeline,  looking 
down  demurely — "just  when  that  horrid  shot  was 
fired  on  Sumter,  and  the  war  started. " 

"I  noticed  that  shot,  too " 

"Yes — you  and  brother  Kerchival. " 


252  Shenandoah 

"What  a  long  suspense  it  has  been!"  and 
Gertrude's  voice  trembled. 

"We  are  sisters,"  murmured  Madeline,  ten 
derly. 

While  they  were  talking,  an  old  mountaineer 
had  slouched  up  to  the  gate,  unobserved,  though 
plainly  enough  to  be  seen.  He  stood  a  moment 
gazing  about  in  aimless  fashion,  then  quickly  raised 
the  flat  stone  cap  on  one  of  the  brick  pillars  of 
the  gateway,  deposited  something  beneath  it,  and 
moved  on. 

Gertrude  excused  herself,  ran  down  to  the  gate, 
raised  the  stone,  and  took  a  packet  of  letters  from 
beneath  it. 

"My  private  post-office,"  she  whispered  to 
Madeline.  "Here  is  a  line  from  Robert — you 
shall  read  it.  Hello !  and  here  is  a  despatch  for  me 
to  deliver — you  know,  dear,  you  are  in  Confederate 
country  now,  but  that  makes  no  difference  between 
us,  does  it?  And,  what  do  you  think?  Here  is  a 
letter  from  Washington — from  Mrs.  Haverill,  and 
with  a  United  States  postmark.  Fancy !  Robert 
says  it  was  in  a  mail-bag  which  the  Mosby  guerillas 
captured  when  they  stopped  a  train. " 

"What  does  she  say?"  asked  Madeline,  eagerly. 

"You  shall  hear.  She  says : ' My  dear  Gertrude 
— When  Kerchival  West  was  in  Washington  last 


The  Strange  Fortunes  of  War    253 

week,  on  his  way  from  Chattanooga  to  serve  under 
Sheridan  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  he  called  upon 
me. ' — I  should  hope  so ! — '  Darling,  he  still ' " 

"Loves  you!"  interjected  Madeline. 

"Never  mind  that!  'I  have  kept  your  secret, 
Gertrude, ' — Oh,  indeed ! — '  but  I  was  sorely  tempt 
ed  to  betray  the  confidence  you  placed  in  me  at 
Charleston.  If  Kerchival  West  had  heard  you  say, 
as  I  did,  when  your  face  was  hidden  in  my  bosom 
that  night,  that' " 

"That  you  loved  him  with  your  whole  heart?" 
ventured  Madeline. 

"Nonsense!  H'm — 'I  am  certain  that  he  still 
loves  you  as  much  as  ever' " 

Here  Jenny,  who  had  been  down  the  road  mak 
ing  a  reconnoissance,  came  galloping  back  on  an 
imaginary  charger;  and  the  whole  conversation 
changed  front. 

"  Do  you  hear  that  music?  "  she  cried.  "  It 's  a 
military  band,  playing  'John  Brown.'  The  boys 
are  singing,  too.  There  's  a  Union  regiment  com 
ing  up  the  Pike.  And  whose  regiment  do  you 
suppose  it  is?  Colonel  Kerchival  West's,  that 's 
what!" 

Gertrude  started  violently,  then  said  with  as 
sumed  indifference: 

"What  does  it  matter  whose  regiment  it  is?" 


254  Shenandoah 

"Oh,  of  course!  you  don't  care.  But  I  do. 
Heartsease  is  in  it. " 

Gertrude  clutched  at  the  paper  she  had  thrust 
into  the  bosom  of  her  riding- jacket,  turned  away 
abruptly,  and  hurried  off  towards  the  stables.  In 
the  excitement  of  the  moment,  her  withdrawal  was 
not  noticed.  A  moment  later,  Josephus  led  out 
her  gray  horse,  saddled  and  bridled.  She  mounted 
lightly,  and  disappeared  down  a  wooded  path  in 
the  direction  of  the  hills,  opposite  from  that 
in  which  the  troops  were  now  plainly  heard 
approaching. 

"Cavalry!"  Jenny  exclaimed,  joyously. 
"That 's  the  branch  of  the  service  I  enlisted  in,  as 
soon  as  I  was  born.  I  '11  pass  'em  in  review. 
Draw  sabre!" — executing  the  movement  with  her 
parasol.  "Present!  What?  trumpet  signal  40 — 
that  means  halt.  Why,  they  are  stopping  here. 
Number  38 — dismount !  Ta-tara-ta-ta-ta — number 
1 7 — assembly  of  guard  details.  Well,  what  do  you 
think  of  that?  they  are  going  into  camp  here.  Say, 
girls,  we  '11  have  all  the  fun  we  want,  now !  I 
wonder  how  I  '11  receive  Captain  Heartsease?  He 
ought  to  be  court-martialed  for  stealing  my  hand 
kerchief — unless  he  's  still  got  it  with  him. " 

As  if  at  the  call  of  his  name,  that  punctilious 
officer  himself  suddenly  came  into  view.  He  was 


The  Strange  Fortunes  of  War     255 

afoot,  and  by  his  side  walked  another,  in  Confeder 
ate  gray — none  other,  in  fact,  than  Colonel  Robert 
Ellingham. 

"This  way,  Colonel — if  you'll  permit  me. 
Deucedly  embarrassing,  certainly,  to — Ah!  aw — 
Miss  Buckthorn?  "  Here  the  Captain  adjusted  his 
eye-glass,  and  stood  as  stock  still  as  the  gate 
post. 

"Well,  Captain  Heartsease?  I  suppose  the 
unexpected  sight  of  me  has  paralyzed  you. " 

"That  expresses  the  situation  accurately,  Miss 
Buckthorn,"  replied  the  automaton,  with  perfect 
composure. 

"Why,  Colonel  Ellingham!"  the  young  lady 
exclaimed,  suddenly  recognizing  the  other  officer. 
"Tell  me,  quick,  Heartsease — which  of  you  two  is 
prisoner  to  the  other?" 

"I  am  the  prisoner,  Miss  Buckthorn,"  said 
Ellingham,  saluting  smilingly.  "I  did  n't  get  out 
of  Winchester  quickly  enough,  this  time,  so  they 
gathered  me  in.  But  Major  Williams  has  kindly 
accepted  my  parole,  and  I  have  been  permitted  to 
show  Captain  Heartsease  the  way  to  conduct  me 
here,  as " 

He  peered  anxiously  in  the  direction  of  the 
veranda,  whence  a  graceful  figure  now  emerged, 
and  ran  eagerly  towards  him. 


256  Shenandoah 

"Madeline!" 

"Robert!" 

They  clasped  hands — both  hands  together — and 
stood  gazing  into  each  other's  eyes  in  rapt  silence, 
oblivious  of  all  around. 

"Do  you  see  that,  Captain  Heartsease?"  de 
manded  Jenny  Buckthorn.  "By  the  way,  is 
Major  Williams  in  command  of  the  regiment?  I 
thought " 

"Colonel  West  is  to  join  us  at  this  point.  He 
should  arrive  shortly.  You  see,  another  division 
of  the  Nineteenth  Corps,  under  General  Haverill, 
has  been  sent  on  to  reinforce  Sheridan.  Pardon 
my  mentioning  such  uninteresting  details,  at  a 
moment  when — aw — the  fact  is,  Miss  Buckthorn, 
the  excitement  of  this  unexpected  meeting  has  so 
completely  upset  me,  that " 

"Oh,  bother!  Come  along  out  of  this,  and  I  '11 
show  you  how  the  land  lies,  hereabouts. " 

They  marched  off  to  the  seat  under  the  big 
cottonwood  tree,  while  Ellingham  and  Madeline 
West  found  their  way  back  to  the  veranda. 

A  little  later,  a  Federal  guard  marched  up  the 
road,  and  a  sentry  was  duly  posted  at  the  gate. 
The  first  person  to  receive  this  sentry's  salute, 
upon  passing  in,  was  Colonel  Kerchival  West.  He 
came  alone,  carrying  a  letter  or  despatch  in  his 


The  Strange  Fortunes  of  War    257 

hand,  and  looking  about  eagerly,  as  if  he  expected 
somebody  to  recognize  him. 

Captain  Heartsease  advanced  briskly  to  meet 
him,  having  duly  obtained  leave  of  absence  from 
Miss  Buckthorn. 

"Colonel  West?"  he  said. 

"Captain!"  was  the  formal  response. 

"You  have  rejoined  the  regiment  earlier  than 
we  expected?" 

"Yes.  General  Haverill  sends  me  word  that  he 
will  meet  me  here  at  seven  o'clock.  In  the  mean 
time, — Major  Williams  tells  me  that  some  of  your 
company  captured  Colonel  Robert  EUingham,  at 
Winchester?" 

"He  is  here  under  parole.  Lives  here,  by  Jove, 
when  he  is  at  home.  Odd  circumstance. " 

"So,  this  is  the  old  Ellingham  homestead!" 
mused  Kerchival,  walking  aside  a  bit,  in  ill- 
restrained  restlessness. 

Where  was  Gertrude?  How  would  she  receive 
him?  How  would  Bob  receive  him,  under  the 
circumstances?  Ah,  was  it  necessary  to  ask?  And 
such  was  to  be  the  meeting  to  which  he  had  looked 
forward  with  single-hearted  yearning,  all  these 
years,  all  this  lifetime,  since  that  dream-like  April 
dawn  when  the  first  shot  was  fired  upon  Fort 
Sumter  in  Charleston  Harbor.  War,  war,  whose 

17 


258  Shenandoah 

other  names  were  Duty,  and  Destiny,  and  some 
times  Death! 

"By  the  by,  Captain  Heartsease,"  he  said,  in  a 
sufficiently  matter-of-fact  tone,  "a  young  lieuten 
ant,  named  Bedloe,  I  believe,  has  joined  your 
troop.  What  do  you  know  of  him?" 

"Very  little,  Colonel,  save  that  he  seems  an 
excellent  young  officer — has  a  record  of  con 
spicuous  gallantry,  I  believe,  or  something  of 
the  sort.  I  should  fancy  Young's  Secret  Ser 
vice  corps  would  be  the  proper  place  for  him — 
you  know  General  Sheridan  is  organizing  such 
a  body,  and  I  understand  he  wants  it  to  be 
composed  of  soldiers  exclusively,  if  he  can  get 
them.  The  Valley,  it  would  appear,  is  infested 
with — aw — Confederate  spies  and  irregulars, 
don't  you  know — of  both  sexes,  too,  as  we  are 
informed." 

"So  I  hear.  Now,  regarding  this  Lieutenant 
Bedloe.  I  sent  for  him  as  I  came  through  the 
camp.  You  may  be  surprised  to  learn  that  he  is 
the  son  of  General  Haverill." 

"I  am  nonplussed!  Under  an  assumed  name, 
then?" 

"Evidently.  He  was  supposed  to  have  been 
killed  in  the  Southwest,  either  at  Shiloh,  or  when 
Fa-rragut  came  up  the  Mississippi  from  the  Gulf. 


The  Strange  Fortunes  of  War    259 

Instead,  he  was  a  prisoner,  and  he  escaped  from 
Libby." 

' '  Here  he  comes,  now, "  said  Captain  Heartsease, 
looking  down  the  driveway. 

"What— that  fellow  with  the  beard?  Why,  his 
face  was  as  smooth  as  a  boy's  when  I  last  met  him 
in  Charleston." 

The  young  stranger — for  he  was  that,  by  his 
manner  and  to  all  appearances — approached  and 
saluted,  saying: 

"You  wished  me  to  report  to  you,  Colonel?" 

"You  have  been  assigned  to  the  regiment  during 
my  absence?"  asked  Kerchival,  scanning  him 
closely. 

"Yes,  sir." 

At  this,  Kerchival  started  forward,  grasped  his 
hand,  and  looking  straight  into  his  eyes,  said: 

"  Frank  Haverill!" 

"You — you  know  me,  sir?" 

"Yes,  Frank,  I  know  you  now.  You  could  not 
have  arrived  at  a  more  opportune  moment.  When 
I  passed  through  Washington  I  saw  Mrs.  Haverill, 
and  she  told  me  of  your  escape  from  prison  in 
Richmond.  But  no  one  knew  of  your  having 
re-entered  the  service,  or  that  you  had  been 
assigned  to  my  regiment — not  only  that,  but  to 
General  Haverill's  brigade." 


260  Shenandoah 

"My  father!"  gasped  the  lieutenant. 

"Yes — prepare  yourself  to  meet  him  face  to  face, 
at  any  moment.  But  he  can't  possibly  recognize 
you,  with  that  beard  and  uniform.  Now,  only 
this  morning,  I  received  a  letter  from  Washington, 
all  about  you — here  it  is" — Colonel  West  took  the 
missive  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  over — 
"so  they  have  learned  more  as  to  your  where 
abouts,  since  I  was  there.  Count  upon  me,  my 
dear  fellow,  to  do  everything  I  can  for  you." 

They  had  seated  themselves  around  a  rustic 
table  on  the  broad  veranda.  Frank  opened  the 
letter  with  trembling  eagerness,  dropping  the  en 
velope  on  the  table,  as  he  murmured  his  thanks  to 
the  Colonel.  The  latter  arose,  and  thoughtfully 
descended  the  steps  towards  the  gateway.  Hearts 
ease  started  to  follow  him,  then  turned  back 
suddenly,  whispering: 

"I  say,  my  boy — look  alive.  If  I  am  not  mis 
taken,  there  is  General  Haverill  approaching. " 

"Gentlemen,"  implored  Frank,  starting  up, 
"please  keep  my  secret. " 

They  both  nodded  assent. 

In  another  moment,  General  Haverill,  accom 
panied  by  a  staff  officer  to  whom  he  was  issuing 
instructions,  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  veranda 
steps.  He  had  only  time  to  return  the  salute  of 


The  Strange  Fortunes  of  War    261 

the  three  officers  awaiting  him  there,  when  another 
of  his  staff  came  hurrying  up  on  horseback,  and 
handed  him  a  despatch. 

"Good  for  Major  Young,"  muttered  the  Gen 
eral,  scanning  the  paper.  "So,  the  men  are  ready ! " 
Then,  turning  to  Kerchival,  he  said:  "Colonel,  I 
have  to  instruct  you  regarding  a  highly  important 
matter  which  has  just  come  up,  and  there  is  not  a 
minute  to  be  lost.  I  will  ask  Captain  Heartsease 
to  remain,  also. " 

Here  Lieutenant  Bedloe  thought  to  withdraw 
unnoticed,  with  a  mere  passing  salute.  But  the 
General's  keen  eye  had  looked  him  over  at  a  glance, 
and  with  apparent  interest,  for  he  said  quickly: 

"One  moment,  Lieutenant — your  name?" 

"Lieutenant  Bedloe,  General,"  put  in  Hearts 
ease,  promptly — "one  of  our  best  young  officers. " 

"Pardon  me,"  murmured  General  Haverill, 
finally  turning  away  from  the  youth.  "Now, 
Colonel  West,  speaking  of  young  officers,  we  have 
an  adventurous  piece  of  work  for  some  one  of 
them" — here  Frank  stopped,  to  hear  the  rest — 
"a  dangerous  mission,  so  much  so  that  I  shall  not 
order  any  individual  to  undertake  it.  A  volunteer, 
to  lead  the  venture,  is  what  we  want. " 

"Oh,  sir — General — may  I  have  the  chance?" 
cried  Lieutenant  Bedloe. 


262  Shenandoah 

"I  thought  you  had  passed  on,  sir,"  returned 
the  General,  looking  keenly  at  him  again. 

"If  it  is  a  scouting  expedition,  sir,"  the  young 
man  went  on,  with  irresistible  eagerness,  "I  beg 
to  say  that  I  have  made  myself  thoroughly  ac 
quainted  with  the  region  hereabouts — in  fact,  I 
was  hoping  to  qualify  as  a  scout.  Please  don't 
refuse  me,  sir. " 

General  Haverill  could  not  help  showing  that 
he  was  pleased. 

"That  is  the  right  kind  of  talk,"  he  declared, 
turning  to  the  other  officers.  "Our  young  friend 
shall  listen  while  I  tell  you  what  is  required.  We 
want  the  key  to  the  enemy's  cipher  and  signal 
code.  They  have  a  signal  station  on  Three  Top 
Mountain  yonder,  and  another  somewhere  down 
the  creek,  that  is  a  nest  of  mischief  to  us.  Every 
night  we  see  their  messages  in  fire  on  the  mountain- 
top,  and  we  can't  read  them.  What  we  want  is  a 
bold  dash  inside  Early's  lines,  and  a  sudden  attack 
upon  the  station,  with  seizure  of  the  papers  and 
despatches.  If  there  is  a  practicable  way  of  ap 
proach  from  this  side  of  the  mountain,  the  thing 
might  be  risked,  with  the  right  sort  of  a  leader." 

"I  know  of  a  path,  General,  and  I  believe  I 
could  accomplish  the  undertaking, "  urged  Frank. 

"Very  well.     Major  McCandless,  of  my  staff, 


The  Strange  Fortunes  of  War    263 

here,  will  take  you  to  Young's  headquarters.  He 
will  furnish  guide,  men,  and  horses — and  Confeder 
ate  uniforms  if  needed.  Now,  Lieutenant, " — here 
General  Haverill  took  out  his  note-book — "give 
me  a  few  particulars  about  yourself.  Have  you 
parents  living?" 

"I  have  the  particulars  regarding  Lieutenant 
Bedloe  and  his  relatives,  General,"  said  Hearts 
ease,  hastening  to  poor  Frank's  rescue. 

"Very  well — I  will  ask  you  for  them,  if  neces 
sary.  Good-bye,  my  lad!"  he  added,  turning  to 
Frank  and  grasping  his  hand.  "Do  the  best  you 
can — no  man  can  do  more.  Keep  a  brave  heart, 
and  come  back  to  us." 

The  young  man  bowed,  saluted,  and  started 
away.  Heartsease  met  him  at  the  end  of  the 
veranda,  and  they  exchanged  a  whispered  word. 
Then  Heartsease  returned,  saying : 

"Colonel  West — aw — it 's  deueedly  embarrass 
ing,  you  know — but  I  shall  have  to  ask  leave  of 
absence  and  go  with  him. " 

1 '  Good  boy,  Heartsease !  Well,  ask  the  General 
— he  can  hardly  refuse  you. " 

"That 's  all  right— but  I  Ve  got  to  ask  Miss 
Buckthorn,  too,  and  the  thought  of  that  so  stirs  up 
my  emotions,  that — Well,  au  revoir,  Colonel!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SIGNALS  FROM  THREE-TOP  MOUNTAIN 

"Yes,  these  were  words  of  thine,  Lorena! 

They  burn  within  my  memory  yet: 
They  touch  some  tender  chords,  Lorena, 

Which  thrill  and  tremble  with  regret. 
'T  was  not  thy  woman's  heart  that  spoke — 

Thy  heart  was  always  true  to  me: 
A  duty  stern  and  pressing  broke 

The  tie  that  linked  my  soul  with  thee. " 

day  began  very  early  at  Belle  Bosquet,  that 
*  golden  October  season,  in  that  restless  year 
of  war's  alarms.  It  was  scarcely  an  hour  after 
sunrise,  when  Colonel  Ellingham  and  Madeline 
West,  returning  from  their  favorite  walk  to  the 
neighboring  hilltop,  met  Jenny  Buckthorn,  who 
had  already  been  down  to  the  camp  to  meet  her 
father. 

"  It 's  all  up  with  us,  Madeline ! "  she  said.  "You 
know,  papa  only  gave  us  our  passes — at  least, 
yours — because  we  all  thought  the  fighting  in  this 
part  of  the  Valley  was  through  with.  Now  it 
looks  as  if  it  were  just  beginning.  Anyway,  the 

General  says  this  is  no  place  for  women,  and  he  has 

264 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain    265 

ordered  us  to  Winchester.  Personally,  I  am  op 
posed  to  falling  back — but  then,  he  is  my  superior 
officer,  so  I  suppose  it 's  '  Boots  and  saddles '  for 
us." 

"But,  surely,  time  will  be  allowed  us  to  say 
good-bye?"  inquired  Madeline,  anxiously.  "I 
can't  help  feeling  worried  at  Gertrude's  not  having 
returned  last  night,  though  Rob — that  is,  Colonel 
Ellingham — says  she  has  stopped  at  the  house  of 
one  of  the  neighbors  down  at  the  Ford,  where  she 
and  I  have  a  class  of  school-children. " 

"She  may  be  home  for  breakfast,"  added  Bob, 
reassuringly. 

"I  hope  she  will, "  rejoined  Jenny,  "not  only  on 
our  account,  but  because  a  certain  officer  here  is 
just  as  good  as  hors  du  combat,  as  a  result  of  her 
absence.  She  knew  Colonel  West  was  coming,  and 
it  seems  very  funny  for  her  not  to  be  here  to  receive 
him,  if  only  as  a  sort  of  '  dearest  foe, '  you  might 
say.  Gertie  is  no  cold,  cruel,  marble-hearted 
thing,  you  know. " 

When  they  reached  the  house,  they  found 
Kerchival  West  already  there,  pacing  the  veranda. 

"Have  you  any  word  from  Miss  Ellingham?" 
he  asked,  as  soon  as  they  came  in  sight. 

"Not  yet,  Kerchival,"  replied  Bob, — "but  my 
sister  is  as  well  able  to  take  care  of  herself  in  these 


266  Shenandoah 

parts  as  you  and  I  are,  and  she  's  sure  to  give  a 
good  account  of  herself,  before  much  longer. 
Depend  upon  it,  Kerchival,  old  chap,  she  never 
left  this  house  with  any  idea  of*being  absent  when 
you  arrived." 

"Colonel  West,"  spoke  up  Jenny  Buckthorn, 
"I  understood  my  father  to  say  that  General 
Haverill  was  coming  up,  from  him,  to  have  a  talk 
with  you. " 

"Do  you  know  if  they  have  further  orders  for 
me  that  will  take  me  away  from  here  to-day?" 
asked  Kerchival. 

"Not  that  I  heard  of,  Colonel.  But  they  seem 
to  be  awfully  worried  about  those  signals  from 
Three-Top  Mountain,  and  about  that  expedition 
just  sent  to  try  and  get  the  key.  I  have  had  to  let 
Heartsease  go  out  on  the  job,  too.  It  seems 
General  Sheridan  wants  to  run  over  to  Washington, 
and  we  are  afraid  there  's  mischief  brewing  if  he 
does." 

At  this  moment  General  Haverill  himself  ap 
proached.  He  asked  Colonel  Ellingham  about  the 
latter's  sister,  Gertrude,  and  then  immediately 
entered  into  such  a  serious  conversation  with 
Colonel  West  that  the  other  young  people  dis 
creetly  withdrew. 

"We  have  reason  to  expect  a  movement  on  the 


Signals, from  Three-Top  Mountain    267 

part  of  the  enemy, "  began  General  Haverill,  "and 
we  must  be  able  to  read  their  signal  despatches,  if 
possible.  Captain  Lockwood,  of  our  own  Signal 
Corps,  will  report  tb  you  here,  with  officers  and 
men.  In  the  meantime,  Colonel  West," — Here 
the  General  took  from  his  wallet  a  newspaper 
clipping,  and  a  letter  envelope,  which  latter  he 
hastily  returned  to  his  pocket.  It  bore  the  address 
of  Colonel  West,  in  Mrs.  Haverill's  handwriting — 
being,  in  fact,  the  one  which  had  inclosed  the 
missive  from  Washington  received  the  day  before, 
and  shown  to  Frank,  who  in  his  eagerness  had 
dropped  the  envelope  on  the  rustic  table  in  the 
veranda,  where  the  General  had  chanced  upon  it, 
and  reserved  it  without  comment.  Now  he  con 
tinued:  "Perhaps  you  can  help  me  in  explaining  a 
personal  matter  about  which  I  am  curious.  Here 
is  a  paragraph  copied  in  the  Richmond  Dispatch 
from  a  South  Carolina  paper,  which  interests  us 
both." 

He  handed  the  clipping  to  Kerchival,  who  read : 

"Captain  Edward  Thornton,  of  the  Confederate 
Secret  Service,  has  been  assigned  to  duty  in  the 
Shenandoah  Valley.  Our  gallant  Captain  still 
bears  upon  his  face  the  mark  of  his  meeting,  in 
1 86 1,  with  Lieutenant  (now  Colonel)  Kerchival 
West,  who  is  also  to  serve  in  the  Valley  with 


268  Shenandoah 

Sheridan's  Army.  Another  meeting  of  these  two 
men  would  be  one  of  the  strange  coincidences  of  the 
war,  as  they  were  at  one  time,  if  indeed  they  are 
not  at  present,  interested  in  the  same  beautiful 
woman.  The  scandal  connected  with  the  name 
of  the  lovely  wife  of  a  Northern  officer,  at  the 
opening  of  the  war,  was  of  course  overshadowed  by 
the  attack  on  Fort  Sumter,  but  many  Charleston- 
ians  will  remember  it.  The  lady  in  defence  of 
whose  good  name  Capt.  Thornton  fought  the  duel 
is  the  wife  of  General  Haverill,  who  will  be  Col. 
West's  immediate  commander. " 

"General ! "  exclaimed  Kerchival,  reddening,  and 
rising  to  his  feet,  "this  is  an  abominable  outrage. 
But  I  think  we  both  know  its  source,  and  it  is 
fortunate  indeed  that  I  have  the  opportunity  to 
nail  it,  now  that  the  matter  is  raked  up  in  such  a 
scurrilous  way.  The  article  states  the  truth  in  one 
particular,  however — I  did  strike  Mr.  Thornton, 
after  a  personal  quarrel. " 

"And  what  provoked  the  blow?  Evidently 
there  is  something  in  this  affair  that  has  been  con 
cealed  from  me,  yet  which  I  have  a  right  to  know. 
I  need  hardly  say  that  I  refuse  to  accept  the  state 
ment  of  this  scandalous  paragraph.  At  the  same 
time,  I  feel  justified  in  asking  you  to  tell  me  the 
whole  story  frankly,  as  man  to  man. " 

"You  are  right,  General.     I  shall  be  more  than 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain    269 

glad  to  tell  you  all — as  soon  as  we  can  be  by  our 
selves  for  half  an  hour  without  interruption." 

The  latter  proviso  was  occasioned  by  the  abrupt 
appearance  of  Sergeant  Barket,  the  body  servant 
of  General  Buckthorn  ever  since  the  Mexican  War, 
and  whom  Miss  Jenny  sometimes  referred  to  as 
her  "dry  nurse. "  At  the  present  moment,  Barket 
was  in  full  activity  of  military  service. 

"Colonel  Wist!"  he  sputtered,  "Adjutant  Rol 
lins  wishes  to  report — a  prisoner — just  captured. " 

"For  the  present,  Colonel, "  said  General  Haver- 
ill,  rising,  "we  both  have  our  duties.  We  will 
meet  to-night,  after  taps,  when  the  camp  is  at 
rest." 

Kerchival  bowed  assent,  and  saluted,  as  his 
commanding  officer  turned  away  and  hastened 
back  to  headquarters.  Then  he  addressed  him 
self  energetically  to  the  Irish  sergeant,  who  stood 
at  attention. 

"Now,  then,  Barket!  I  thought  you  were  to 
wait  at  Buckton's  Ford  with  a  fresh  horse  in  readi 
ness,  to  watch  for  the  return  or  tidings  of  Lieu 
tenant  Bedloe's  party,  and  bring  the  first  news 
post-haste." 

"Right  ye  are,  Colonel.  Sure,  was  n't  I  there? 
And  that 's  where  we  captured  the  prisoner. " 

"Guerilla,  or  spy?" 


270  Shenandoah 

"Worse,  sor — a  petticoat." 

"What!"  cried  Kerchival,  aghast. 

1 '  Yis,  sor.  I  towld  the  boys  yer  honor  would  n't 
thank  us  for  the  catchin'  of  her.  She  's  a  lady,  and 
a  purty  one. " 

"Well,  tell  Major  Williams,  for  me,  to  let  her 
take  the  oath,  and  everything  else  she  wants,  with 
the  United  States  Government's  apology,  and  an 
order  for  a  new  bonnet. " 

"The  young  lady  to  take  the  oath,  is  it?  An* 
she  's  afther  saying  she  '11  see  us  damned  first. " 

"Did  she  say  that?" 

"Well,  she  did  n't  use  thim  exact  words,  but  she 
looked  at  me  to  that  effect.  Oh,  she  's  a  spanker, 
sor.  She  was  ridin'  lickety-split  through  the 
woods  on  a  gray  horse,  and  we  had  the  divil's  own 
chase  before  we  caught  up  wid  her,  by  the  bend  in 
Oak  Run.  And  at  the  same  toime  we  saw  the 
gray  back  of  a  Confederate  officer  skedaddling  off 
on  the  other  side  of  the  creek. " 

"Ah !    And  then  what  did  you  do? " 

"Two  of  us  come  back  here  wid  the  girl,  the  rest 
wint  afther  the  officer. " 

"H'm.  Have  you  found  any  despatches  on  the 
prisoner?" 

"Colonel  Wist,  I  'm  a  bachelor,  an'  I  don't 
be  afther  pretendin'  to  any  familiarity  with  the 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain     271 

jayography  of  women's  clothes.  What  could  we 
b'ys  do,  yer  honor?" 

"Sure  enough.  Tell  them  to  send  the  prisoner 
here,  Barket,  and  then  you  hurry  back  to  your 
post  at  Buckton's  Ford,  and  stay  there  until  you 
get  news  of  Bedloe. " 

The  Irish  trooper  departed;  and  Colonel  West, 
taking  a  folded  map  from  his  wallet,  seated  him 
self  on  a  garden  bench  and  studied  out  the  exact 
location  of  the  bend  in  Oak  Run,  with  relation  to 
the  enemy's  lines  as  last  reported.  He  was  thus 
occupied,  when  the  fair  prisoner  was  brought  in  by 
a  corporal  and  two  private  soldiers. 

Dressed  in  a  dark-green  riding-habit,  and  hat 
with  sweeping  plume,  after  the  approved  ante 
bellum  fashion  of  the  fox-hunting  Dianas  of  that 
section  of  Virginia,  she  looked  indeed  a  dashing 
type  of  self-reliant  womanhood.  Kerchival  could 
not  see  her  face,  because  ere  he  had  time  to  look 
up  from  his  map,  she  had  proudly  turned  her 
back  to  him,  and  now  stood  impatiently  striking 
her  skirt  with  her  riding-whip,  awaiting  the 
inquisition. 

"Will  you  be  seated,  madam,"  said  the  young 
Colonel,  who  had  risen  from  the  bench,  and  now 
stood  by  rather  bashfully,  wondering  how  he 
should  proceed. 


272  Shenandoah 

The  lady  drew  herself  up  disdainfully,  folded 
her  arms,  and  remained  silent.  Kerchival  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  made  a  new  start. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  madam,  but  circumstances  are 
such  that  I  can  take  but  one  course,  consistently 
with  my  duty.  You  have  been  captured  within 
the  lines  of  this  army,  and  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  you  are  the  bearer  of  important  despatches. 
If  so,  I  must  ask  you  to  give  them  up.  I  trust 
that  you  will  give  me  whatever  you  have,  at  once. 
It  would  be  of  no  advantage  to  you,  and  extremely 
awkward  for  me,  if  you  were  to  compel  me  to  adopt 
the  extreme — the  very  disagreeable  course — for 
both  of  us — of  having  you — well,  I  hesitate  to  use 
the  word  as  a  seeming  threat,  madam,  but  the 
military  law  compels  that  you  shall  be " 

"Searched?  Is  that  what  you  mean?  If  you 
dare,  Colonel  West !" 

Here  the  prisoner  turned  upon  him  quickly 
enough,  disclosing  a  flushed  face  and  flashing  eyes, 
framed  in  rebellious  hair  of  a  warm  bronze  color. 
One  look  at  this  splendid  spirited  picture,  and 
Kerchival  West  sprang  forward  with  arms  ex 
tended,  exclaiming: 

' '  Gertrude !  my  dear  Gertrude !     Is  it  possible ! ' ' 

"Not  'dear  Gertrude'  to  you — my  jailor!"  she 
retorted,  drawing  back. 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain     273 

So,  this  was  their  meeting!  "Enemies"  still, 
and  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle. 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Ellingham,"  said  Kerchival, 
humbly.  "I  feel  that  I  am  your  prisoner,  now." 

"We  must  both  face  the  painful  realities  of 
war, "  she  answered,  coldly. 

"Believe  me,  Gertrude,  my  position  is  more — 
more  regrettable  than  yours. " 

"Do  not  forget  your  paramount  duty  as  a 
military  officer,  on  my  account,"  she  pursued, 
tauntingly. 

"Will  you  please  hand  me  whatever  despatches 
or  other  papers  may  be  in  your  possession?" 

"And  if  I  don't  choose  to?  You  can  threaten 
me  with  force,  I  suppose.  I  am  only  a  woman, 
going  about  my  business — my  military  duty,  if  you 
please — in  defence  of  my  own  home.  I — I  did  not 
know,  Colonel  West" — here  her  voice  wavered  a 
little,  but  she  recovered  herself  instantly — "that 
you  were  coming  in  this  threatening  attitude. 
Well,  I  am  in  your  power.  Order  in  the  guard! 
Call  up  your  whole  regiment !  Beat  the  long  roll ! 
And  then  see  if  I  will  give  up. " 

"Hello!  what's  all  this?"  demanded  a  gruff 
voice,  as  the  imposing  form  of  General  Buckthorn 
loomed  up  behind  them.  "Is  this  your  prisoner, 
Colonel  West?" 

18 


274  Shenandoah 

"Yes,  General,"  stammered  Kerchival, — who 
nevertheless  felt  relieved  at  the  sight  of  his  senior 
commander. 

1 '  Jenny's  father ! ' '  gasped  Gertrude.  ' '  I  wonder 
if  he  will  recognize  me?" 

"Fine  young  woman,  eh?"  said  the  old  General, 
in  a  hoarse  whisper,  at  the  same  time  giving  Ker 
chival  a  sly  punch  in  the  ribs.  Then  he  turned 
and  bowed  gallantly,  removing  his  hat,  but  as 
suddenly  resumed  his  air  of  military  sternness,  held 
out  his  hand  to  Kerchival,  and  demanded:  "Let 
me  see  the  despatches. " 

"She  refuses  to  give  them  up,"  answered  the 
young  officer.  . 

"Oh,  she  does,  does  she?  My  dear  young  lady, 
kindly  let  us  have  those  despatches,  without  any 
further  palavering. " 

"  I  have  no  despatches, "  replied  Gertrude,  spirit 
edly,  "  and  I  would  not  give  them  to  you  if  I  had. " 

"What!  you  defy  my  authority?  We  '11  see 
about  that.  Colonel  West,  search  the  prisoner." 

Kerchival  stood  aghast. 

"  General  Buckthorn,  I  cannot  obey  that  order. " 

"You — you  refuse  to  obey  my  order?"  thun 
dered  the  General,  moving  up  fiercely. 

"That  is  the  woman  I  love,  sir,"  whispered 
Kerchival,  aside  to  the  General. 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain     275 

"Oho!  why  did  n't  you  say  so?  I  '11  have  to 
take  matters  in  my  own  hands,  then." 

"Don't  do  that,  General  Buckthorn!"  said  the 
young  officer,  facing  him  with  determination. 

"Blast  your  eyes,  sir!  I  'd  court-martial  you 
if  you  did  let  me  search  her.  But  duty  is  duty. 
Consider  yourself  sworn  at,  sir.  Young  woman, 
Colonel  West  here  has  sacrificed  his  life  to  protect 
you." 

"His  life?"  cried  Gertrude. 

"I  must  have  him  shot,  for  insubordination  in 
front  of  the  enemy, "  continued  the  General,  giving 
Kerchival  a  huge  wink. 

"  Oh,  sir !  General  Buckthorn !  I  have  told  the 
truth.  I  have  no  despatches.  I  have  n't  a  scrap 
of  paper  about  me,  except " 

"  Ah,  '  except. '     Except  what? " 

"Only  this  letter," — taking  it  from  the  bosom 
of  her  riding-habit.  ' '  Here  it  is.  Upon  my  honor, 
it  is  all  I  have.  Truly,  it  is. " 

General  Buckthorn  took  the  letter,  and  glanced 
it  over,  quizzically. 

"Washington — ho,  ho!  I  seje.  'Colonel  Ker 
chival  West' " 

"Don't  read  it  aloud,  General — please!"  inter 
rupted  Gertrude. 

"Very   well,    I   won't."    He   read   on,    aside, 


276  Shenandoah 

mumbling  to  himself, — "  'had  heard  you  say,  as  I 
did, — m — m — you  loved  him  with  your  whole 
heart,' — this  is  important — 'Signed,  Constance 
Hav — .'  H'm — 'my  dear  Gertrude.'  Are  you 
'my  dear  Gertrude* — Miss  Gertrude  Ellingham?" 

"Yes,  General." 

"Thunder  and  Mars !  Then,  this  is  your  house, 
and  my  daughter  Jenny  is  your  guest?" 

"Why,  of  course.     Jenny  is  here,  all  right." 

"Well!  of  all  the  dangerous  little  Rebels!"  here 
the  General  chucked  her  under  the  chin,  before 
turning  to  Kerchival  to  say:  "Colonel  West,  I 
leave  this  suspicious  young  person  in  your  charge. 
If  she  attempts  to  escape,  or  is  unruly  in  any 
way,  read  this  letter — here,  take  it ! — but  not  till 
then." 

"Oh,  let  me  have  it  back — it 's  mine,"  pleaded 
Gertrude. 

"I  shall  obey  orders,"  said  Kerchival,  putting 
the  letter  into  his  pocket. 

Meanwhile,  a  disturbance  down  the  road  had 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  group.  They  now 
saw  that  it  was  caused  by  the  approach  of  a  squad 
of  men  bringing  along  a  prisoner  in  disarranged 
Confederate  uniform,  and  who  evidently  had  not 
been  captured  without  putting  up  a  desperate 
resistance. 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain    277 

"It's  Thornton,  by  !"  was  Kerchival's 

astounded  exclamation. 

The  captors  were  the  men  of  Sergeant  Barket's 
party  of  the  day  before,  who  had  gone  in  chase  of 
an  officer  in  gray  at  the  time  when  Gertrude 
Ellingham  was  taken. 

"Then,  the  little  witch  has  been  communicating 
with  the  enemy,  after  all,"  said  General  Buckthorn. 

"I  don't  deny  that,"  replied  Gertrude,  calmly. 
"They  are  not  my  enemy.  But  I  wish  to  say  that 
when  I  went  across  the  lines  I  did  not  know  that 
the  Confederate  officer  I  was  to  meet  would  be 
Captain  Thornton." 

"Miss  Ellingham,"  said  Kerchival,  "if  you  will 
give  me  your  parole  of  honor  until  next  we  meet, 
you  may  be  excused  now." 

"You  have  my  word.  I  am  your  prisoner," 
she  replied,  turning  to  cast  one  scornful  glance 
upon  the  glowering  Thornton  as  she  entered  the 
house. 

"Now  we  shall  probably  find  the  despatches  we 
have  been  looking  for,  General,"  said  Kerchival. 

"Prisoner,"  demanded  General  Buckthorn, 
"you  will  hand  over  what  papers  you  may 
have." 

"  I  '11  hand  you  nothing, "  snarled  Thornton. 

In  a  quick  glance,  the  General  gave  his  order  to 


278  Shenandoah 

KerchivaJ,  who,  this  time,  transmitted  it  with 
alacrity. 

"Corporal  Dunn,  search  the  prisoner!" 

Two  of  the  guard  held  Thornton's  arms,  none 
too  gently,  while  the  corporal  threw  open  his  coat 
and  began  a  minute  search.  He  found  first  a 
paper,  which  he  handed  to  Kerchival,  who  gave  it 
to  his  General. 

" 'General  Rosser  will  rejoin  General  Early  with 
all  the  cavalry  in  his  command,'"  read  the  old 
warrior,  eagerly. 

Here  Corporal  Dunn  gave  Kerchival  a  small 
packet,  which  when  unwrapped  proved  to  contain 
a  miniature  picture. 

"A  portrait  of  Mrs.  Haverill!"  muttered  the 
young  officer,  with  a  start.  He  motioned  the 
corporal  to  retire,  and,  taking  his  place,  asked 
Thornton  in  a  low  voice:  "How  did  this  portrait 
come  into  your  possession?" 

"That  is  my  affair,  not  yours." 

"Anything  else,  Colonel?"  called  General  Buck 
thorn,  who  had  seated  himself  on  the  garden  bench 
to  pore  over  the  captured  despatch. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Kerchival,  putting  the 
miniature  carefully  away  in  his  breast  pocket. 

"  Damn  you — you  '11  give  that  back  to  me  yet, " 
hissed  Thornton;  "and  we  have  an  old  score  to 


•a 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain     279 

settle,  before  I  'm  through.  Don't  think  you  are 
going  to  escape  me  so  easily  as  this!" 

"Corporal!  take  away  your  prisoner, "  was  Ker- 
chival's  only  reply. 

Thornton  made  a  vicious  spring  forward,  but 
the  corporal  was  too  quick  for  him,  and  with 
levelled  carbine  marched  him  off  the  grounds. 

"Just  as  I  thought,"  said  General  Buckthorn, 
reading.  "The  enemy  has  a  big  movement  on 
foot.  Listen  to  this : '  Watch  for  signal  from  Three- 
Top  Mountain.'" 

"We  are  still  in  hopes  that  we  may  be  able  to 
read  that  signal  ourselves,"  said  Kerchival. 

"Yes,  I  know.  It  is  pretty  near  time  for  Barket 
to  be  back  with  some  tidings  of  the  expedition. 
Be  on  your  guard,  here.  I  will  speak  with  General 
Haverill,  and  then  ride  over  to  General  Wright's 
headquarters.  Keep  us  informed. " 

It  was  twilight — the  soft,  lingering,  caressing 
twilight  of  that  idyllic  Valley  clime — when  next 
the  anxious  heart  of  Kerchival  West  was  thrilled 
with  the  sight  of  Gertrude.  She  had  changed  her 
riding-habit  for  a  simple  house  dress  that  strangely 
transformed  her  in  outward  appearance  from  the 
spirited  "  Rebel "  of  the  morning,  back  to  the  frank 
and  lovely  girl  he  had  met  at  Charleston  in  the 
spring-time  of  long  ago. 


28o  Shenandoah 

"You  are  still  on  guard,  Colonel  West?"  she 
said — but  her  tone  had  something  of  the  old 
delicious  friendly  intimacy  in  it.  "I  am  giving 
you  no  end  of  trouble. " 

All  day  he  had  haunted  the  garden  of  Belle 
Bosquet,  and  the  veranda  whence  she  had  last 
disappeared. 

"I  like  it,  if  you  don't  mind,  Gertrude,"  he 
replied,  somewhat  languishingly  for  a  stern  jailor. 
"I  am  posted  here,  you  know.  The  signalmen 
will  report  to  me  at  this  spot — may  be  along  any 
minute.  We  are  watching  for  signals  from  the 
mountain." 

"Your  men  might  not  have  caught  me,  this 
morning,  if  I  had  had  Jack — my  own  pet  horse. 
But  I  lent  him  to  brother  Robert  for  a  cavalry 
mount,  and  the  enemy  captured  him  at  Winches 
ter.  Now  he  is  in  service  against  us — and  what 
do  you  think  I  heard?  That  your  General  Sheri 
dan  has  taken  him  for  his  own  mount.  Jack  is  a 
black  beauty,  but " 

"I  am  very  sorry — but  are  you  not  mistaken 
about  General  Sheridan?  He  rides  a  black  thor 
oughbred,  but  I  happen  to  know  that  it  is  his  own 
favorite,  Rienzi,  that  he  brought  with  him  from 
Mississippi." 

"  My  Jack  is  jet  black,  with  one  white  stocking. " 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain     281 

"Only  one?  then  that  settles  it.  General  Sheri 
dan's  Rienzi  has  at  least  two  or  three,  if  not  four, 
white  stockings — of  that  I  am  sure,  for  I  have 
often  admired  him,  and  taken  notice. " 

"Well,  anyway,  the  Yankees  have  taken  my 
Jack." 

"If  he  is  in  our  cavalry,  I  '11  get  him  back  for 
you,  Gertrude.  I  '11  give  one  of  my  own  horses  to 
the  Government — or  I  '11  buy  him  outright,  at  any 
price,  and  bring  him  back  to  you.  Anything  that 
is  mine,  dearest  Gertrude,  you  know " 

"Oh,  thank  you, — my  dear  Kerchival!  I  could 
almost " 

"Almost  confess  that — that  you  don't  hate  me?  " 
he  cried,  joyously,  grasping  her  hand.  "Oh, 
Gertrude!  I  thought  I  saw  something  in  your  eyes 
that  took  the  bitterness  out  of  your  hasty  words. 
Have  I  been  wrong?  Ever  since  we  were  sepa 
rated  in  Charleston — during  all  this  terrible  war — 
in  the  death-camps,  in  the  trenches,  on  the  battle 
field, — I  have  dreamed  of  a  meeting  like  this! 
You  are  silent?" 

"Kerchival, — "  she  began,  with  pathetic  half- 
yielding.  "Oh — is  this  your  whole  regiment  com 
ing  up?" 

"It's  the  signalmen.  Don't  go — I  command 
you!" 


282  Shenandoah 

"I  must  go,  now.  But  I  '11  come  back,  if  you 
insist — I  am  your  prisoner.  Only,  don't  read  that 
letter,  for  the  world!" 

Before  the  signalmen  reached  the  house,  Cor 
poral  Dunn  came  hurrying  ahead  of  them,  to 
announce  that  his  prisoner,  Captain  Thornton, 
had  escaped. 

"He  had  a  knife  hidden  in  his  boot,  sir,  and  he 
slashed  two  of  the  guard  and  got  away,  while  my 
back  was  turned  for  a  minute.  He  's  like  a  mad 
dog,  sir,  that  Rebel  is. " 

"Tell  Major  Williams  to  place  the  remainder  of 
that  guard  under  arrest.  Go  after  the  prisoner,  and 
try  to  recapture  him  before  it  is  quite  dark — he 
can't  have  gone  far.  So, "  he  mused,  as  the  corporal 
vanished  again,  "  Thornton  has  jumped  his  guard, 
and  he  is  armed.  He  calculates  to  get  me,  I  pre 
sume.  I  shall  be  ready  for  him — Ah!  the  call. " 

A  flash  of  fire  on  the  dusky  mountain-top  was 
the  "call, "  or  opening  of  the  enemy's  long-awaited 
signal  communication.  It  brought  Captain  Lock- 
wood  up,  precipitately. 

While  they  were  watching  the  signals  through 
their  glasses  General  Haverill  arrived,  accom 
panied  by  two  staff  officers. 

"Can  you  make  anything  of  it,  Captain?"  he 
asked. 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain     283 

"Nothing,  General,  until  we  get  the  key,"  was 
the  reply. 

"It  should  be  here,  if  Lieutenant  Bedloe  has 
succeeded." 

A  shot  rang  out,  from  the  direction  of  the  gate — 
followed  by  a  cry  of  "Halt!  who  goes  there?" 

"Och!  ye  murtherin'  spalpeen!"  cried  the  voice 
of  Sergeant  Barket. 

"Pass  on,"  called  the  sentinel. 

"He  did  n't  give  the  countersign,"  said  Kerchi- 
val.  "  Must  be  news  from  Lieutenant  Bedloe. " 

"Here's  the  papers,"  panted  Barket,  running 
up,  covered  with  dust,  and  with  one  arm  limp. 

Captain  Lockwood  took  the  code  book  he 
brought,  and  hurried  up  the  elevation  back  of  the 
house. 

"What  of  Lieutenant  Bedloe,  Sergeant?"  in 
quired  General  Haverill. 

"Badly  wounded,  sor,  and  in  the  hands  of  the 
inimy.  But  he  fit  off  the  whole  gang,  until  we 
came  up  an'  got  the  papers. " 

"And  Captain  Heartsease?" 

"Shot  down  at  his  side,  sor.  Maybe  dead — I 
dunno.  But  please  don't  say  anything  to  Miss 
Jenny,  yet.  She  '11  foind  out  soon  enough.  Och! 
me  arm  is  hurted.  Sure,  I  forgot  the  sentry 
entirely,  but  he  did  n't  forget  me. " 


284  Shenandoah 

"Twelve — twenty- two — eleven!"  called  a  sig 
nalman  on  the  knoll,  reading  the  torch  wigwagging 
on  the  distant  mountain- top. 

"Colonel  West,"  said  the  General,  "we  must 
get  Lieutenant  Bedloe  in  exchange,  at  any  sacrifice, 
if  he  is  still  alive.  Let 's  see — why,  there  is 
Colonel  Robert  Ellingham,  our  prisoner — we  might 
offer  him  in  exchange,  if  he  would  go. " 

"Surely!  Bob  will  go  in  a  minute — I  know  he 
will.  I  will  find  him,  and  ride  to  the  front  with 
him  myself,  General. " 

"At  once,  then! — Can  you  follow  the  despatch, 
Captain  Lockwood?" 

"Perfectly,  General — everything  is  here  in  the 
book." 

' '  Eleven — twenty- two — one — twelve, ' '  shouted 
the  signalman. 

" 'General  Longstreet  is  coming' " 

"Longstreet!  I  feared  that." 

" '  One — twenty-one — three. ' ' 

"' — with  eighteen  thousand  men.'" 

"Longstreet  with  his  corps!" 

"Two  — twenty-two  —  eleven  —  one  —  twelve 
--one." 

"'We  will  crush  Sheridan's  army.'" 

"Aha!"  cried  General  Haverill,  stirred  to  deadly 
energy.  "Now,  men,  signal  that  despatch  up  the 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain    285 

Valley  to  our  own  station — tell  them  to  send 
couriers  and  catch  Sheridan  with  it  at  Front 
Royal — they  must  catch  him,  so  that  he  can  has 
ten  back  with  the  cavalry.  Major  Burton!  order 
our  horses — we  will  ride  to  General  Wright's  head 
quarters  at  once." 

"What  divil  of  a  row  is  that,  now?"  queried 
Sergeant  Barket,  peering  around  the  dark  side  of 
the  house,  and  starting  off  in  that  direction. 

General  Haverill,  while  awaiting  the  horses, 
watched  Captain  Lockwood  and  his  men  lighting 
pine-wood  torches  attached  to  long  poles,  to  flash 
their  signals  up  the  Valley.  Another  minute,  and 
Barket  returned,  with  Robert  Ellingham,  the  two 
supporting  between  them  Kerchival  West,  white- 
faced  and  with  his  coat  thrown  open,  a  crimson 
stain  showing  on  his  shirt  front. 

"There,  Bob,  I  '11  be  all  right  now,"  he  was 
murmuring,  faintly.  "It 's  only  the  loss  of  blood 
that  upsets  me — I  got  a  scratch  of  the  knife, 
that's  all." 

"Go  for  a  surgeon,  somebody,"  said  Colonel 
Ellingham,  as  they  helped  Kerchival  to  the  seat. 
"The  fellow  has  knifed  him.  But  they  've  got  the 
wretch. " 

Corporal  Dunn  and  his  guard  dragged  in  Edward 
Thornton,  for  the  second  time  that  day. 


286  Shenandoah 

"We  were  leaving  the  house  together,"  ex 
plained  EUingham,  "when  this  wild  beast  sprang 
out  upon  us  from  the  bushes." 

"We  had  him  surrounded,"  added  Corporal 
Dunn,  "but  I  'm  afraid  we  were  too  late. " 

"This  is  murder,  not  war!"  exclaimed  General 
Haverill,  turning  to  Thornton,  who,  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  torn  and  dishevelled,  looked  a  fearsome 
picture  of  diabolical  malice.  "If  you  have  killed 
him " 

"Oh,  do  what  you  like  with  me — my  account  is 
settled,"  retorted  Thornton,  watching  with  an 
evil  smile  as  Ellingham  handed  to  General  Haverill 
a  wallet  and  a  miniature-case,  saying: 

"I  took  these  from  Kerchival's  breast  pocket 
when  he  fell. " 

"My  wife's  portrait,"  muttered  the  General, 
with  an  involuntary  gesture  of  despair. 

"You  recognize  the  precious  keepsake,  Gen 
eral?"  sneered  Thornton.  "So,  you  see,  if  I  have 
killed  him,  your  honor  will  be  buried  in  the  same 
grave. " 

General  Haverill  gave  no  sign,  but  stood  a 
moment  gazing  at  the  miniature  in  his  hand,  by 
the  light  of  the  blazing  signal-torches.  At  this 
juncture,  the  horses  were  brought  up.  The  Gen 
eral  handed  Captain  Lockwood  a  written  order, 


Signals  from  Three-Top  Mountain     287 

and  turned  to  mount,  when  Gertrude  ElEngham 
ran  out  from  the  house.  She  had  come  to  bid  her 
brother  Robert  good-bye.  She  saw  him  now,  in 
the  lurid  glare  of  the  pine-knots,  bending  over  the 
prostrate  form  of  the  wounded  Union  officer. 

"Robert!"  she  cried,  "I  heard  them  calling  for 
a  surgeon.  Who  is  hurt? — you  are  safe,  are  n't 
you — Ah!  Kerchival!"  With  a  scream,  she  fell 
on  her  knees  by  his  side,  uttering  wild,  tender 
words  as  she  stroked  the  dark  hair  back  from  his 
pallid  forehead. 

"Oh,  Kerchival,  dear — I  never  meant  those 
bitter  words  I  said  to  you — Forget  them,  and  for 
give  me,  won't  you!  Do  you  hear  me?  I  love 
you — I  have  loved  you  all  the  time " 

General  Haverill  heard  no  more.  He  did  not 
look  around  as  Thornton  was  hustled  away  in 
irons,  but  sprang  into  his  saddle  and  dashed  off 
down  the  black  road,  after  the  staff  officers,  who 
at  his  own  impatient  order  had  preceded  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
"TELL  HOW  i  DIED — NOT  HOW  i  LIVED" 

"  Not  only  in  the  grizzled  past 

Tingled  heroic  blood: 
Not  only  were  its  swart  sons  cast 

In  knightly  mould  and  mood: 
Altar  of  sacrifice  perfumed 

Our  hot  sulphuric  air, 
And  Sidney's  shining  manhood  bloomed 

Around  us  everywhere. " 

DOSSER'S  Cavalry  came  over  the  mountains 
*  ^  to  join  Early,  calling  themselves  the  Laurel 
Brigade  and  posing  as  the  self -constituted  "Saviors 
of  the  Valley. ' '  They  had  their  honors  in  advance, 
and  sallied  forth  to  meet  the  Federal  foe,  consisting 
of  Sheridan's  troopers  commanded  by  Torbert, 
Custer,  and  Merritt.  The  next  seen  of  them,  they 
were  scurrying  precipitately  up  the  Pike,  with  a 
long  lead  over  their  blue-coated  pursuers,  in  an 
action  which  passed  into  facetious  history  under 
the  name  of  the  "Woodstock  races. "  And  forth 
with  the  Laurel  Brigade  was  re-christened  the 
Running  Vine. 

General  Sheridan  did  not  give  up  his  trip  to. 
288 


"Tell  How  I  Died"  289 

Washington  on  account  of  the  menacing  despatch 
intercepted  from  Three-Top  Mountain.  He  sent 
back  the  division  of  mounted  troops  which  had 
accompanied  him  to  Front  Royal,  and  commended 
the  enterprise  of  his  officers  in  getting  the  code 
which  enabled  them  to  take  the  signals  from  Three- 
Top.  It  was  apparent,  however,  that  he  regarded 
the  announcement  of  Longstreet's  coming  as  a 
ruse,  or  "bluff," — something  to  be  watched,  indeed, 
but  not  to  be  taken  seriously  into  the  calculation 
of  his  immediate  plans  either  of  attack  or  defence. 

Some  said  it  was  queer  the  enemy  should  have 
surrendered  their  signal  station  and  its  papers  so 
"easily."  They  did  not  know  what  it  had  cost 
General  Haverill. 

Major-General  Wright,  commanding  the  Sixth 
Corps,  took  charge  during  Sheridan's  absence,  and 
he  strengthened  the  Federal  lines  along  the  north 
bank  of  Cedar  Creek,  some  fifteen  miles  south  of 
Winchester,  to  such  a  degree  of  security  that  the 
tension  of  vigilance  was  noticeably  relaxed. 

Bright  and  early  the  morning  after  the  exciting 
combination  of  events  at  Belle  Bosquet — the  read 
ing  of  the  signals,  the  exchange  of  Colonel  Robert 
Ellingham  for  the  wounded  Lieutenant  Bedloe, 
and  the  murderous  attack  of  Captain  Edward 
Thornton,  of  the  Confederate  Secret  Service,  upon 


290  Shenandoah 

Colonel  Kerchival  West,  a  turmoil  of  action  mani 
fested  itself  in  the  Union  regimental  camp  at  that 
point.  As  a  result  of  the  night's  conference  of 
Generals  Buckthorn  and  Haverill  with  General 
Wright,  Colonel  West's  regiment  had  been  ordered 
to  the  front. 

The  bugles  were  calling,  and  the  flags  waving, 
in  the  crisp,  breezy  autumn  morning.  The  fog 
and  mists  of  early  morn  were  presently  dispersed 
by  the  mild,  mellow  sunshine.  It  was  a  strangely 
hushed  and  dim  weather,  through  which  the  dis 
tant  desultory  firing — doubtless  from  outlying 
Confederate  batteries  stirred  up  by  Custer's  Cav 
alry,  always  on  the  wing, — rang  out  with  unusual 
distinctness. 

Jenny  Buckthorn  was  in  her  element. 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  could  go  with  the  regiment!"  she 
cried.  "When  I  hear  'Boots  and  saddles,'  I  feel 
that  I  should  have  been  born  a  man.  Fours  right ! 
There  they  go !  Look  at  those  horses'  ears !  Trum 
pet  signal  number  30 — Forward!  Listen  to  the 
band — 'Shouting  the  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom!' 
Rappity-plap-plap-plap !  On,  Third  Battalion, 
left  front  into  line,  march !  Draw  sabres !  Charge ! 
Ah,  just  because  I  happen  to  be  a  girl,  I  have  to 
stay  here  with  the  rest  of  the  petticoats,  and 
see  the  regiment  march  away,  leaving  us  behind 


"Tell  How  I  Died"  291 

with  old  Barket  and  a  corporal's  guard  to  look 
after  us." 

"I'm  thinking  it's  to  Winchester  yez '11  be 
marching,  right  soon,  Miss  Jenny — you  and  Miss 
Madeline,"  broke  in  Sergeant  Barket,  nursing  his 
wounded  arm  in  a  sling.  "An'  if  a  little  military 
sugar-plum  the  likes  o'  you  objects  to  not  goin'  to 
the  front,  phwat  do  you  think  of  an  ould  piece  of 
hard-tack  like  me?  But,  sure,  it 's  your  father's 
orders. " 

"I  told  you  to  tell  papa  that  I  'd  let  him  know 
when  Madeline  and  I  were  ready  to  go." 

"I  tould  him  I  'd  as  soon  move  a  train  of  army 
mules.  All  the  same,  Miss  Jenny,  this  depart 
ment  of  the  United  States  Army  will  move  to  the 
rear  in  half  an  hour.  This  is  no  place  for  female 
women,  now.  Miss  Gertrude  Ellingham  ought  to 
go  wid  us, — but  she  would  n't  if  she  cud. " 

"I  say,  Barket,"  demanded  Jenny,  turning 
suddenly,  "hasn't  Captain  Heartsease  rejoined 
the  regiment  yet?  I  don't  see  him  at  the  head  of 
his  company.  Where  is  he?" 

"I — I  can't  say  just  where  he  is,  this  minnit, 
Miss  Jenny." 

"Well,  Barket,  when  you  do  see  him  again,  tell 
him  I  may  have  some  orders  for  him,  when  we  next 
meet. " 


292  Shenandoah 

With  this,  she  hurried  into  the  house,  just  as  her 
father,  the  old  General,  hove  into  sight. 

"You  haven't  started  with  those  girls  yet?" 
he  grunted  to  Barket,  "Remember  what  I  told 
you. — Is  General  Haverill  here?" 

"Yes,  sor — in  the  house,  wid  the  surgeon." 

"Ah,  yes — the  surgeon.  How  is  Colonel  West, 
this  morning?" 

"He  says  he  is  as  well  as  ever,  an*  the  doctor 
says  he  can't  lave  his  room  for  a  month.  Sure, 
the  Rebel's  knife  went  deep.  The  Colonel  took 
it  hard  that  he  could  n't  go  to  the  front  with  his 
regiment  this  morning.  He  's  gettin'  on  foine, 
an'  he  swore  at  the  Chaplain  for  prayin'  for  his 
recovery. " 

"That  looks  encouraging, "  growled  the  General. 
"Ah,  Haverill,"  he  went  on,  as  that  officer  came 
out  on  the  veranda,  "maybe  Sheridan  is  right, 
after  all.  The  reconnoissances  this  morning  show 
no  hostile  force  on  our  right,  and  Crook  reports 
that  Early  is  retreating  up  the  Valley.  But  Gen 
eral  Wright  is  making  some  changes  in  our  line 
this  afternoon ;  and  in  the  meantime  I  want  you  to 
order  General  MaCuen  to  go  into  camp  on  the 
right  of  Meadow  Brook,  with  the  second  division. 
— Jenny,  girl,  don't  bother  me  about  Heartsease, 
now. — Order  the  Third  Brigrade  of  cavalry,  under 


"  Tell  How  I  Died  "  293 

Colonel  Lowell,  to  occupy  the  left  of  the  Pike. 
We  'd  better  hold  Custer  on  the  second  line,  at  Old 
Forge  Road,  until  further  instructions.  That  is 
all  for  the  present. — Good-bye,  Jenny,  my  darling. 
General,  I  bid  you  good  day. " 

General  Haverill,  who  had  carefully  written  the 
foregoing  orders  in  his  note-book,  watched  General 
Buckthorn  off,  then  asked  Jenny,  as  she  re-entered 
the  house,  if  she  would  send  Gertrude  to  him. 

"Gertrude,  my  child,"  he  said,  with  unwonted 
gravity,  "the  surgeon  tells  me  that  Kerchival 
West  will  get  on  well  enough  if  he  remains  quiet — 
otherwise,  not." 

"That  is  what  is  worrying  me,  General," 
Gertrude  replied.  "  Colonel  West  insists  upon  pre 
paring  to  join  his  regiment  at  the  front.  I  hope 
you  will  order  him  to  remain  here — compel  him  to 
be  prudent. " 

"He  should  not  look  for  the  honor  of  death  on 
the  field,  under  present  circumstances, "  muttered 
the  General,  with  peculiar  significance. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  inquired  Gertrude, 
uneasily. 

"You  have  a  right  to  ask  me  that,  as  your 
father's  old  friend,  once  your  own  guardian. 
Gertrude,  child,  you  have  a  warm,  true  heart.  I 
could  not  bear  to  see  your  happiness  destroyed, 


294  Shenandoah 

through  very  loyalty  to  your  heart's  affection. 
Listen.  Last  night  I  saw  you  kneeling  beside 
Kerchival  West — speaking  to  him,  ministering  to 
him,  with  all  the  tender  passion  of  a  Southern 
woman.  You  told  him  that  you  loved  him.  But 
those  fateful  words  fell  upon  unconscious  ears. 
Tell  me,  has  he  ever  heard  those  words  from  your 
own  lips?  Have  you  ever  confessed  your  love  to 
him  before?" 

"Never — since  you  ask  me.  But  why,  General 
Haverill,  do  you  ask?" 

"Never  mind.  Only,  do  not  repeat  it.  Keep 
your  heart  to  yourself,  my  girl. " 

"But,  General — at  a  moment  like  this,  when 
his  life " 

1 '  Leave  that  to  me  —    Hush ! ' ' 

The  voice  of  Colonel  West  himself,  heard  out 
side,  giving  orders  to  a  sergeant  to  get  his 
horse  ready,  silenced  them.  He  then  came 
up,  in  full  uniform,  and  wearing  his  sword,  and 
saluted.  His  face  was  pale,  but  he  presented  a 
brave  front. 

"Are  there  any  orders,  General,  for  my  regi 
ment,"  he  asked,  "beyond  those  given  to  Major 
Williams,  in  my  absence,  this  morning?  I  am 
going  to  the  front  to  resume  my  command." 

"It  is  my  wish,  Colonel,  that  you  remain  here 


•      "Tell  How  I  Died"  295 

under  the  surgeon's  care,"  said  the  General, 
quietly. 

"Oh,  my  wound  is  a  mere  trifle.  I  could  not 
rest  here — I  must  be  with  my  men,  at  this  perhaps 
critical  moment  in  the  campaign." 

"I  have  told  you,  my  wish  is  to  the  contrary, " 
repeated  General  Haverill. 

Kerchival  knew  only  too  well  that  ominous, 
quiet  reserve.  He  knew  the  inflexibility  of  that 
proud,  intolerant  mood.  He  could  not  wholly 
fathom  its  cause,  but  a  troublesome  recollection 
suddenly  occurred  to  him. 

"General,"  he  said,  with  grieved  earnestness, 
after  looking  around  to  see  that  Gertrude  had 
silently  withdrawn,  "I  was  unable  to  keep  my 
appointment  with  you  last  night,  for  an  unfore 
seen  reason,  which  you  know.  I  am  ready  and 
willing  to  explain  certain  matters,  as  you  re 
quested  me  to  do  yesterday.  But,  meanwhile, 
a  crisis  has  developed,  and  whatever  there  may 
be  between  us  personally,  you  are  now  in  the 
position  of  interfering  with  my  duty  and  my 
privilege  as  a  soldier.  It  is  my  right  to  be  at 
the  head  of  my  regiment,  so  long  as  I  am  physi 
cally  able. " 

"You  have  my  positive  order,  sir." 

"Then,  I  protest " 


296  Shenandoah 

"You  are  under  arrest,  sir!"  said  the  General, 
without  changing  his  tone. 

Kerchival  started  as  if  he  had  been  shot.  Then, 
in  a  deliberate,  dazed  way,  he  unclasped  his  belt, 
and  offered  his  sword. 

"No,  keep  your  sword — I  have  no  desire  to 
humiliate  you,"  the  General  continued,  in  a  low 
voice.  "But  you  will  hold  yourself  subject  to 
further  orders  from  me." 

With  these  inexorable  words,  he  turned  away, 
while  Kerchival,  as  if  suddenly  a  sick  man  again, 
started  to  re-enter  the  house.  He  met  Gertrude 
at  the  door,  all  gentleness  and  commiseration. 

"Did  you  hear  what  the  General  said?"  he 
asked,  feebly. 

"No  matter  what  he  said — or  what  any  one 
says,  now,  Kerchival, "  was  her  impulsive  response, 
"you  have  my  perfect  faith.  There;  now  you 
must  go  to  your  room,  and  rest  until  the  surgeon 
comes  again. " 

He  obeyed,  in  silence.  What  words  could  he 
find? 

Looking  out  from  her  window,  a  few  minutes 
later,  Gertrude  was  startled  to  see  a  number  of 
men  emerging  from  the  woods,  by  the  path  leading 
up  from  the  Ford.  Then  she  perceived  that  they 
were  Confederate  soldiers,  under  a  flag  of  truce, 


"  Tell  How  I  Died  "  297 

following  an  escort  of  Union  troops,  and  carrying 
some  burden — it  proved  to  be  a  stretcher,  on  which 
lay  the  unconscious  form  of  a  young  man,  evidently 
a  wounded  Federal  officer.  A  surgeon  walked 
beside  the  stretcher,  giving  directions  to  the  bear 
ers,  who  rested  a  short  distance  from  the  veranda 
steps.  Gertrude  ran  to  the  door,  followed  by 
Madeline  West  and  Jenny  Buckthorn.  Sergeant 
Barket,  also,  stood,  wonder-struck,  on  a  sort  of 
improvised  sentry  guard. 

"I  am  Major  Hardwick,  of  the  Confederate 
service, "  said  the  surgeon,  hat  in  hand,  and  losing 
no  time.  "Is  General  Haverill  here?" 

"He  left  but  a  moment  ago " 

"He  's  just  afther  mounting  his  horse,"  put  in 
Barket,  "and  I  can  cut  across  and  stop  him  for 
yez." 

"Please  say  to  him  that  we  come  from  Colonel 
Robert  Ellingham,  who  instructed  me  to  bring 
this  young  officer  in  exchange  for  himself,  as  agreed 
upon  between  them  last  evening." 

"Is  he  unconscious,  or  sleeping,  sir?"  asked 
Gertrude,  looking  with  tender  solicitude  upon  the 
pallid  face  on  the  rude  rustic  litter. 

"He  is  between  life  and  death,  I  fear.  The 
removal  has  been  too  much  for  him,  yet  it  seemed 
for  the  best,  under  the  circumstances.  He  was 


298  Shenandoah 

so  anxious — Ah !  he  is  waking.  Here  we  are,  my 
boy," — placing  his  canteen  to  the  lips  of  poor 
Lieutenant  Bedloe,  for  he  it  was  in  such  grievous 
plight — "we  have  reached  the  end  of  our  journey. " 

"My  father — "  gasped  Frank. 

"He  is  thinking  of  his  home, "  said  Major  Hard- 
wick. 

"I  have  carried  out  General  HaverilTs  orders," 
murmured  the  young  man,  faintly,  "and  I  have  a 
report  to  make. " 

"He  will  be  here  in  a  moment,"  answered 
Gertrude. 

"Is  not  this — Miss  Gertrude  Ellingham?"  he 
asked,  looking  wistfully  into  her  face. 

"Yes,  yes — you  have  seen  me  before?" 

"Long  ago.  You  know  Mrs.  Haverill — the 
General's  wife?" 

"She  is  one  of  my  dearest  friends  on  earth. " 

"Then — you  can  give  her  a  message  for  me,  to 
my  poor  little  wife.  She  will  know. — Will  the 
General  be  here  soon?  I — somehow  I  feel  that  I 
have  not  much  time  left — Doctor!  my  note 
book!" 

The  surgeon  took  the  note-book  from  an  inner 
pocket,  and  at  the  same  time  a  blood-stained 
handkerchief  fell  out.  The  dying  soldier  saw  it, 
and  with  an  effort  said: 


"Tell  How  I  Died"  299 

"Ah,  yes — a  message — from  Captain  Hearts 
ease  He  was  by  my  side — he  had  a  Confederate 
uniform — so  they  did  n't  send  him  back  with  me. " 

Gertrude,  kneeling  by  his  side,  took  the  handker 
chief,  and  silently  handed  it  to  Jenny  Buckthorn, 
who  turned  suddenly  pale  as  she  saw  it,  then  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands  and  hastened  away. 

Still  General  Haverill  did  not  arrive. 

"Please  write!"  Frank  whispered,  to  Gertrude. 
"To — my  wife — Edith: — Tell  our  little  son,  when 
he  is  old  enough  to  know — how  his  father  died,  not 
how  he  lived.  And  tell  her,  who  was  a  mother  to 
me — that  my  father's  portrait  of  her,  which  she 
gave  to  me  in  Charleston,  helped  me  to  be  a  better 
man.  And — don't  forget  to  tell  them — I  have  n't 
it  with  me  now — it  was  taken  away  from  me  while 
I  was  a  prisoner  in  Richmond,  by  Captain  Edward 
Thornton — Confederate  Secret  Service.  Let — me 
— sign — that ' ' 

Gertrude,  with  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks, 
held  the  poor  boy's  hand  while  he  made  a  feeble 
scrawl  on  the  page,  then  fell  back  lifeless.  The 
surgeon  gently  laid  the  fold  of  the  blanket  over 
his  face. 

1 '  Present  arms !  Carry  arms ! ' '  commanded  the 
officer  of  the  Federal  guard,  as  General  Haverill 
came  up,  returning  the  salute  as  he  passed. 


3oo  Shenandoah 

"Am  I  too  late?"  he  asked. 

"I  'm  sorry,  General,"  replied  the  Confederate 
surgeon.  "His  one  thought,  as  we  brought  him 
through  the  lines,  was  to  see  you  before  he  passed 
away. " 

"Poor  boy — brave  boy, "  muttered  the  General, 
turning  back  the  fold  of  the  blanket  a  moment  to 
gaze  upon  the  calm,  sleeping  face.  "I  am  in  the 
place  of  your  father,  to-day. — We  will  carry  him 
to  his  comrades  at  the  front, — he  shall  have  a 
soldier's  burial,  in  the  shadow  of  the  mountain 
where  he  sacrificed  his  young  life,  in  the  purest 
valor  of  patriotism.  Yonder  mountain  shall  be 
his  monument." 

The  Confederate  soldiers  stood  in  embarrassed 
silence  for  a  little  space.  Then  Major  Hardwick 
said: 

"Pardon  me,  General.  We  Virginians  are  your 
enemies,  in  the  field, — but  you  cannot  mourn  or 
honor  this  gallant  young  soldier  more  than  we  do. 
If  you  will  allow  us  the  privilege,  now  that  we  are 
here,  we  will  carry  him,  and  accompany  you,  to  his 
last  resting-place. " 

General  Haverill  bowed  his  assent  and  recogni 
tion  of  the  touching  tribute.  Then,  with  bared 
head,  he  knelt  on  the  ground  beside  the  bier  for  a 
minute  or  two  in  profound  silence.  Rising  again, 


"Tell  How  I  Died"  301 

with  his  old  military  mask  of  stolid  self-possession, 
and  with  reversed  sword,  he  made  a  sign  to  the 
officer  of  the  Federal  guard. 

4 '  Left  face !  Forward — march ! "  commanded  the 
lieutenant.  The  Confederate  soldiers  again  gently 
lifted  their  burden,  and  the  pitiful  cortege  moved 
off  slowly  in  the  direction  of  the  lengthening 
shadows  of  Three-Top  Mountain. 

Not  a  man  in  the  whole  army  would  have  ven 
tured  a  word  to  General  Haverill,  either  at  that 
moment  or  later,  when  he  wrote  a  despatch  to  the 
Government,  which  was  carried  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  and  enrolled  in 
deathless  history.  And  the  name  he  wrote  was 
that  of  "Lieutenant  Frank  Bedloe." 

"The  movement  upon  which  our  immediate 
hopes  of  success  in  this  campaign  are  founded, "  he 
declared,  "would  have  been  impossible  without 
the  bravery  and  sacrifice  of  this  young  officer. 
His  name  must  take  its  place  forever  on  the 
roll  of  fame  which  his  countrymen  are  proud  to 
honor. " 


CHAPTER  XIX 
"IT  's  ONLY  A  BATTLE!" 

"Who  was  with  us,  and  what  was  round  us, 

Neither  myself  nor  my  darling  guessed: 
Only  we  knew  that  something  crowned  us, 

Out  from  the  heavens,  with  crowns  of  rest — 
Only  we  knew  that  something  bright 

Lingered  lovingly  where  we  stood, 
Clothed  with  the  incandescent  light 

Of  something  higher  than  humanhood. " 

THE  night  of  October  i8th  was  full  of  inquietude 
*  and  alarms  for  the  inmates  of  Belle  Bosquet. 
A  Federal  guard  was  posted  there,  and  Barket 
served  as  courier.  Neither  Jenny  Buckthorn  nor 
Madeline  West  would  think  now  of  going  on  to 
Winchester,  with  Kerchival  West  in  a  precarious 
condition,  and  the  fate  of  Captain  Heartsease  still 
uncertain.  General  Haverill  did  not  return  to  the 
house,  but  joined  General  Buckthorn  at  the  front, 
where,  it  was  understood,  General  Wright  was 
making  every  possible  preparation,  pending  the 
return  of  Sheridan,  for  guarding  against  and  resist 
ing  an  attack  upon  his  right,  which  was  the  only 

point  at  which  he  apprehended  immediate  trouble. 

302 


"  It  's  Only  a  Battle  !  "  303 

But  the  woods  and  hills  all  around  were  infested 
with  the  irregular  mounted  raiders,  or  guerillas, 
headed,  according  to  various  reports,  now  by 
Mosby,  now  by  Gilmore,  again  by  McNeill.  It 
was  impossible  to  estimate  their  strength  or  num 
bers,  or  to  anticipate  their  sudden,  audacious,  and 
ruthless  attacks.  Skirmishes  with  these  men  were 
of  almost  daily,  or  nightly,  occurrence — and  the 
present  time  was  no  exception. 

Before  daybreak,  on  the  morning  of  the  1 9th, 
Madeline  and  Gertrude,  who  occupied  a  room 
together,  were  awakened  by  firing  in  the  distance 
up  the  Valley,  to  the  southward.  Jenny  Buck 
thorn,  in  an  adjoining  chamber,  heard  their  voices, 
and  joined  them  for  companionship  and  sympathy. 
Alas!  what  a  changed,  subdued  Jenny,  within  the 
last  twenty-four  hours! 

"  Do  you  hear  that  firing,  girls?  It  is  no  ordi 
nary  skirmish,  I  '11  be  bound. " 

"It  sounds  more  like  a  battle,  or  at  least  an 
attack  in  force,  than  anything  I  have  heard  for 
a  long  time,"  declared  Gertrude.  "I  wonder  if 
General  Longstreet  has  come  up,  after  all?  Robert 
was  fearfully  excited  when  they  took  that  signal 
message — and  now  he  is  back  with  his  regiment, 
fighting  again,  I  suppose.  Oh,  I  can't  get  used  to 
this  horrible  suspense!" 


304  Shenandoah 

"  It  is  almost  as  killing  to  us  here,  as  to  the  men 
who  are  out  in  the  battles — but  I  pray  for  them 
all,  every  night,"  sighed  the  gentle  Madeline. 
"And  yet,  my  brother  fumed  and  fretted  so,  last 
evening,  that  I  wished  he  were  at  the  f.ont, 
too." 

"Don't  wish  it  now!"  exclaimed  Jenny,  with  an 
unwonted  burst  of  emotion.  "Be  thankful,  you 
and  Gertrude,  that  if  he  has  got  to  be  wounded, 
and  maybe  dying,  at  least  he  is  where  you  can  be 
at  his  side,  and  comfort  him. " 

" Listen ! "  cried  Gertrude.     "That 's  artillery ! " 

The  day  had  dawned,  damp,  chill,  and  foggy. 
Nothing  more  than  the  dim,  ghostly  shapes  of 
trees  could  be  seen,  a  hundred  yards  away.  But 
all  through  the  Valley,  up  from  the  direction  of 
Cedar  Run,  sounded  the  boom  of  heavy  guns,  in 
sullen  reverberation,  with  now  and  again  the 
muffled  rumble,  roar,  and  crash  of  musketry. 

The  girls  dressed  hurriedly,  in  silence,  and  came 
down-stairs.  Already  Kerchival  West,  haggard 
and  excited  looking,  was  pacing  the  veranda  like 
a  caged  animal.  Barket  had  been  down  to  the 
Pike  for  reconnoissance,  and  now  came  back  with 
startling  news. 

"It 's  a  battle,  sure!"  he  said.  "An*  Sheridan 
away,  the  divil  only  knows  where.  Begob,  they 


11  It  rs  Only  a  Battle  ! "  305 

must  have  attacked  by  surprise,  before  the  screech 
o'  dawn,  judgin'  from " 

"Who  has  attacked?  Who  is  surprised?"  de 
manded  Kerchival,  with  furious  impatience. 

"The  inimy  has  attacked  us,  sor,  an'  what 's 
more,  they  seem  to  be  drivin'  things  before  'em. 
By  the  direction  of  the  firm',  it  should  be  our  left 
flank  they  have  pounced  upon,  instead  of  the  right, 
where  they  were  dacintly  expected.  Sure,  thim 
Rebels  have  no  politeness,  nohow " 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  our  troops  are  falling 
back?" 

"Well,  sor,  I  did  hear  some  cavalry  gallopin' 
down  the  Pike — but  whether  it  was  ours,  or  theirs, 
or  only  Mosby's  gorillas,  that  I  can't  tell  yez. " 

"Then  I  '11  go  and  find  out  for  myself!"  Kerchi 
val  cried,  fiercely,  making  a  move  into  the  hallway 
for  his  hat.  The  sudden  exertion  proved  too  much 
for  him,  and  he  sank  into  a  chair,  clutching  with 
one  hand  at  his  breast. 

"Kerchival — brother!"  remonstrated  Madeline, 
running  up  and  throwing  her  arms  about  him. 
"Remember  your  condition — please  don't  expose 
yourself  any  more. " 

"Come,  Kerchival — Colonel  West,"  pleaded 
Gertrude,  as  caressing  in  her  tone  as  Madeline  in 
her  action, — "we  are  going  to  have  some  hot 


306  Shenandoah 

coffee — the  nearest  we  can  make  to  it,  at  least — 
and  a  little  breakfast.  Then,  if  you  really  feel 
strong  enough,  we  can  go  out  on  the  knoll,  and 
see  what  there  is  to  be  seen.  There  is  a  lull  in  the 
firing  I  think.  And  the  fog  is  lifting,  too. " 

This  sensible  advice  appealed  to  all.  They  sat 
around  the  hospitable  table  in  the  old  Colonial 
dining-hall,  while  a  fire  of  oak  logs  crackled  cheerily 
in  the  huge  open  fire-place.  One  silent  thought 
brooded  over  the  scene — a  feeling  not  unlike  that 
which  had  oppressed  them  at  Charleston,  on  a 
memorable  April  day,  three  and  a  half  years  before. 
Of  that  fondly  remembered  gathering,  only  four 
were  now  present.  Dr.  Ellingham,  and  Robert, 
General  Haverill  and  his  wife,  were  absent,  and 
widely  scattered.  Captain  Heartsease,  who  might 
and  should  have  been  present  now,  was  wounded 
and  a  prisoner;  and  no  one  spoke  the  name  that 
was  in  the  thoughts  and  prayers  of  all,  on  account 
of  poor  brave  Jenny,  who  sat  pensive  with  lips 
that  quivered  when  she  tried  to  smile,  and  hid  in 
her  bosom  a  stained  lace  handkerchief.  And  still 
the  great  Secession  War  surged  and  thundered 
all  around  them. 

"  Hark !  there  is  the  firing  again,  worse  than  ever, 
and  it  is  coming  nearer,"  said  Gertrude,  uncon 
scious  of  a  certain  exultation  in  her  tone.  "If 


"  It  's  Only  a  Battle  ! "  307 

General  Longstreet  only  has — I  mean,  if  really 
^  »» 

"He  never  can  drive  General  Sheridan  back,  of 
that  I  am  certain,"  spoke  up  Madeline,  with 
unwonted  spirit. 

"Let  us  go — Oh,  pardon  me,  Gertrude — ladies — 
I  beg,"  said  Kerchival,  starting  up,  then  at  once 
seating  himself  again. 

But  they  all  had  risen,  as  impatient  as  he  was, 
and  hurried  out. 

Kerchival  and  Gertrude  took  the  path  up  the 
elevation  to  where  the  big  cottonwood  tree  over 
looked  the  Valley.  Jenny  and  Madeline  lingered 
on  the  veranda. 

"Go  on,  go  on!"  muttered  Kerchival,  instinct 
ively  feeling  for  his  sword,  and  looking  loweringly 
in  the  direction  from  which  came  the  roar  of  the 
guns.  "  Fight  to  a  finish,  and  have  it  over.  Keep 
the  battle  to  yourselves — I  'm  out  of  it. " 

"  Kerchival, "  said  Gertrude,  "your  sister  Made 
line  says  that  now  she  must  pray  for  the  man  she 
loves,  enemy  or  no  enemy. " 

' '  And  she  is  right.  Anything  else  would  be  worse 
than  treason.  I  can't  pray — can  you,  Gertrude?  " 

"Yes!    Ah,  Kerchival!" 

He  leaned  against  the  tree,  his  hand  clutching 
at  his  breast  again. 


308  Shenandoah 

"Your  wound!  Let  me  call  the  surgeon,  Ker- 
chival." 

"Wound!  I  have  no  wound  to  bother  about, 
now.  You  love  me?" 

"  Look !  There  are  soldiers  running  through  the 
woods.  Oh!  what  shall  we  do?" 

The  firing,  very  close  now,  was  faster  and  more 
furious  than  ever.  It  seemed  to  have  given 
Kerchival  West  new  breath  of  life. 

"Never  mind  that!"  he  cried,  deliriously.  "It 's 
only  a  battle!  Say  that  you  love  me!" 

"Be  quiet,  Kerchival,  dear.  I  do  love  you.  I 
said  so  last  night,  before  every  one,  only  you  did  n't 
hear  me.  I  said  the  same  thing  at  Charleston, 
when  first  we  met.  And  some  one  I  told  wrote 
it  in  a  letter — that  letter  which  General  Buck 
thorn  gave  you,  and  told  you  not  to  read  unless  I 
became  unruly.  I  am  not  unruly,  am  I,  dear?  " 

"No!  my  precious  girl — nothing  can  separate 
us  now !  That  letter  " — he  searched  in  his  pockets 
but  could  not  find  it.  "Ah — I  remember — they 
must  have  taken  it,  when  I  was  laid  out  by 
Thornton's  dagger.  And — a  miniature  I  had, — 
that 's  gone,  too!" 

"Don't  excite  yourself,  Kerchival — you  must  be 
quiet,  or  I  will  not  say  another  word.  As  for  the 
letter — never  mind,  I  know  it  by  heart,  and  if  you 


"  It  's  Only  a  Battle !  "  309 

like  I  can  repeat  what  you  so  much  desired  to 
read.  She  wrote — Constance  did,  to  me:  'If  Ker- 
chival  West  had  heard  you  say,  as  I  did,  when  your 
face  was  hidden  in  my  bosom  that  night,  that  you 
loved  him  with  your  whole  heart '  " 

Josephus  Orangeblossom,  on  a  mule  without 
saddle,  dashed  up  from  the  direction  of  the  Pike, 
shouting : 

"Miss  Gertrude!  Marse  Bob,  he  done  set  a 
gyard  aroun'  dis  house,  but  'taint  no  use  now,  for 
de  Yanks  is  runnin'  away.  We  's  got  'em  licked, 
Missy,  we  sho*  has!" 

"Begob,  the  naygur's  right,"  confirmed  Ser 
geant  Barket.  "The  grayback  divils  have  sprung 
up  out  of  the  ground.  They  're  pourin'  over  our 
left  flank  like  Noah's  own  flood.  Our  camp  is 
wiped  out,  and  they  've  got  our  guns,  and  wagons, 
and  wounded  and  prisoners,  and  the  whole  Union 
army  is  a-startin*  to  beat  it  down  the  Pike  for 
Winchester,  worse  luck !  Colonel  Wist,  yonder  is 
your  own  regiment,  in  full  retrate!" 

"My  regiment!"  roared  Kerchival,  jumping  up. 
"Great  God,  no!  Get  my  horse,  Barket!  I  '11 
stop  that,  or " 

"Yer  harse,  is  it?  Hooroo!  I  'm  wid  ye, 
Colonel!  There  's  a  row  at  Finnegan's  Ball,  and 
we  're  goin'  to  be  in  it!" 


310  Shenandoah 

11  Kerch! val!"  pleaded  Gertrude,  throwing  her 
arms  around  him.  "You  must  not  go !  You  may 
be  dying!" 

"Dying,  nothing!  I 'm  all  right,  now!  Ger 
trude,  my  life!" 

"Did  n't  you  tell  me  you  were  under  arrest?" 

"Arrest  be  damned!  How  can  they  keep  me 
here,  now?  My  regiment  in  retreat?  It  won't 
retreat  any  farther,  unless  it  marches  over  my 
dead  body!" 

"Here's  yer  harse,  Colonel!  Now,  give  me 
that  mule,  ye  black  contraband  naygur!"  called 
Barket,  wild  with  joy,  to  the  rolling-eyed  Josephus. 

"Good-bye,  Gertrude,  darling!  Tell  Madeline! 
Pray  for  us!" 

And  two  more  flying  figures  hurled  themselves 
down  the  hillside,  into  the  roaring  maelstrom  of 
battle  that  filled  the  Valley. 


Gertrude.—"  Your  wound! " 

Col.  West. — "  Wound  ?     I  have  no  wound!     You  do 
love  me  ?  " 

Drawn  by  Harry  A.  Ogden 


CHAPTER  XX 

AT  THE  ELEVENTH  HOUR 

"There  is  a  road  from  Winchester  town, 
A  good  broad  highway  leading  down; 
And  there  through  the  flash  of  the  morning  light 
A  steed  as  black  as  the  steeds  of  night 
Was  seen  to  pass  as  with  eagle  flight. 
As  if  he  knew  the  terrible  need, 
He  stretched  away  with  the  utmost  speed: 
Hills  rose  and  fell — but  his  heart  was  gay, 
With  Sheridan  fifteen  miles  away. " 

A  SMALL  boy,  hanging  about  in  front  of  the 
**  Logan  house,  in  Winchester,  watched  for 
General  Sheridan  to  make  his  appearance,  and 
then  asked: 

"Please  tell  me,  General,  for  my  grandma, 
where  you  are  going?" 

With  his  mind  full  of  the  trouble  caused  by 
Confederate  spies  and  informers,  Sheridan  replied 
gruffly: 

' '  Tell  her  that  I  am  going  to  Richmond  or  Peters 
burg,  or  heaven  or  hell." 

The  boy  ran  away,  but  came  back  half  an  hour 
later,  and  called  out  from  the  sidewalk : 


312  Shenandoah 

"General  Sheridan!  My  grandma  says  you 
can't  go  to  Richmond,  because  General  Lee  is 
there.  And  you  can't  go  to  Petersburg,  because 
General  Beauregard  is  there.  And  you  can't  go 
to  heaven,  because  General  Stonewall  Jackson  is 
there!" 

It  was  the  evening  of  October  i8th.  Sheridan, 
on  his  way  back  from  Washington,  via  Martins- 
burg,  to  rejoin  the  Federal  army  at  Cedar  Creek, 
had  arrived  in  Winchester  late  that  afternoon, 
bringing  with  him  two  engineer  officers  who  were 
charged  with  the  duty  of  reporting  on  a  defensive 
line  across  the  Valley  that  could  be  held  securely 
while  the  bulk  of  the  troops  now  there  should  be 
transferred  to  General  Grant  in  front  of  Petersburg, 
in  the  East.  One  of  these  engineer  officers  was 
enormously  fat,  the  other  was  as  thin  as  Don 
Quixote,  and  neither  was  accustomed  to  horseback 
riding.  Hence  the  slow  progress  over  the  road 
between  Martinsburg  and  Winchester.  However, 
the  couriers  who  came  up  from  the  front  to  meet 
the  General  reported  everything  quiet  at  Cedar 
Creek  and  the  adjacent  Fisher's  Hill ;  and,  further 
more,  that  General  Haverill's  brigade  of  the  Nine 
teenth  Corps  was  to  make  a  reconnoissance  on  the 
right,  early  next  morning.  This  was  sufficiently 
reassuring,  so  General  Sheridan  and  his  party  de- 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour  313 

voted  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  to  looking 
over  the  ground  where  it  was  proposed  to  lay  out 
fortifications  for  a  position  to  be  occupied  by  the 
Federal  troops  in  the  near  future.  The  com 
mander  decided  to  take  the  night's  rest  in 
Winchester,  and  proceed  to  the  front  next 
morning. 

When  he  was  called  at  six  A.M.,  faint  sounds  of 
irregular  firing  were  heard  in  the  distance,  to  the 
southward — doubtless  the  result  of  General 
HaverilTs  reconnoissance.  The  firing  did  not 
cease,  however,  and  after  a  while  it  was  more  dis 
tinctly  heard,  augmented  by  cannonading.  Break 
fast  was  ordered;  and  Sheridan's  bold  black 
Rienzi,  together  with  the  horses  of  the  staff  officers 
and  couriers,  stood  pawing  and  champing  before 
the  door. 

It  was  near  nine  o'clock  when  the  General  got 
away.  Then  he  hit  the  Pike  at  a  fairly  good  clip, 
not  liking  the  sounds  of  sudden  battle  ahead,  and 
somewhat  nettled  at  the  jeers  and  taunts  of  women 
in  the  doorways  along  the  route.  It  was  plain  they 
had  heard  something  by  "grapevine  telegraph." 
What  they  had  heard  soon  became  apparent,  as 
the  horsemen  went  over  the  rise  at  Mill  Creek, 
a  couple  of  miles  south  of  the  town. 

There,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  up  the  long 


3 14  Shenandoah 

line  of  the  Valley  Pike,  stretched  and  straggled 
the  appalling  spectacle  of  an  army  in  broken  re 
treat.  Baggage  wagons,  wounded  men,  riderless 
horses,  and  soldiers  without  guns,  told  all  too 
plainly  a  tale  of  panic  and  rout. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  shouted  Sheridan. 
"You  should  be  facing  the  other  way.  What  has 
happened?" 

They  told  him  the  army  had  been  surprised, 
defeated,  and  all  broken  up,  and  was  in  full  retreat. 

Sheridan  did  not  rip  about,  swear,  and  threaten 
— as  yet.  He  was  the  calmest  man  of  his  party 
as  he  rode  forward,  slowly  at  first,  thinking  what 
he  should  do.  The  signal  message,  "We  will 
crush  Sheridan's  army,"  recurred  to  his  mind  with 
stunning  force.  But  would  the  army  suffer  itself 
to  be  crushed,  even  in  his  temporary  absence? 
He  could  not,  and  would  not,  believe  it.  The 
stragglers,  being  hurriedly  questioned,  described 
the  situation  as  "awful." 

"That  means  nothing,  from  a  pack  of  cowards 
who  were  the  first  to  run  away  from  the  battle 
field,"  declared  Sheridan.  "Come!  we  '11  soon 
find  out  for  ourselves.  This  retreat  would  never 
have  happened  if  I  had  been  here.  What  I  want 
to  find  out  now  is,  where  Wright  and  the  Sixth 
Corps  are,  and  what  the  Nineteenth  is  doing. 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour  315 

Wherever  they  are,  it 's  all  right,  or  we  '11 soon 

fix  it  right." 

Sending  a  courier  back  with  a  hurried  order  that 
the  troops  at  Winchester  should  be  deployed  across 
the  Valley,  and  that  all  fugitives  should  be  halted 
and  started  back  to  the  front  again,  he  now  gave 
Rienzi  his  head — the  gallant  Morgan  colt  needed 
no  spur.  But  the  Pike  was  so  cluttered  up  with 
wagons,  and  convoys  of  wounded  soldiers,  and 
groups  squatting  around  fence-rail  fires  cooking 
coffee  as  a  substitute  for  the  breakfast  of  which 
Early's  surprise  had  deprived  them,  that  long  de 
tours  through  the  fields  at  one  side  or  the  other 
had  to  be  made. 

Nearing  Newtown,  about  half-way  between 
Winchester  and  Cedar  Creek,  General  Sheridan 
found  numerous  companies  of  uninjured  and  un- 
scared  men,  with  their  officers,  who  needed  only 
a  word,  or  the  mere  sight  of  "Little  Phil,"  their 
magical  commander,  to  turn  about  with  cheers 
and  march  back  toward  the  enemy.  Among  the 
first  he  recognized  was  an  officer  from  his  own 
State,  Ohio — Major  William  McKinley,  of  General 
Crook's  staff. 

"Where  is  the  Nineteenth  Corps?"  asked 
Sheridan. 

"On  the  right,  General — in  the  woods  yonder," 


316  Shenandoah 

was  the  reply,  as  the  young  officer  sprang  upon 
his  horse,  and,  with  a  loud  cheer,  dashed  way  to 
spread  the  inspiring  news  of  the  chieftain's  arrival 
on  the  field. 

A  couple  of  miles  farther  on,  in  the  rear  of 
General  Getty's  division  near  Middletown,  a 
whole  bunch  of  regimental  flags  seemed  to  rise  up 
out  of  the  ground.  These  proved  to  be  the  colors 
of  the  main  body  of  Crook's  troops,  which  had  not 
retreated  at  all,  but  re-formed  after  the  surprise 
of  early  morning,  and  were  now  holding  the  line 
to  the  west  of  the  turnpike.  In  one  of  the  brigade 
commanders  here,  Sheridan  recognized  another 
staunch  Ohioan  whom  he  knew.  This  was  Colonel 
Rutherford  B.  Hayes. 

The  meeting,  in  quick  succession,  of  McKinley 
and  Hayes,  under  such  momentous  circumstances, 
naturally  impressed  the  General  as  of  encouraging 
portent.  Yet  how  little  could  he,  or  they,  guess 
that  within  the  span  of  a  single  generation  both 
of  these  promising  young  Ohio  soldiers,  fighting 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  countless  others  of  equal 
or  more  promise,  were  to  become  Presidents  of 
the  United  States  of  America ! 

Far  other  and  more  immediately  pressing  con 
cerns  occupied  them  on  this  day  of  the  battle  of 
Cedar  Creek.  Colonel — or  was  it  already  General  ? 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour  317 

— Hayes  was  able  to  answer  more  definitely  the 
oft-repeated  inquiry  for  the  Sixth  and  the  Nine 
teenth  Corps. 

"Here  are  two  divisions  of  the  Sixth  Corps, 
intact,  General — and  on  their  right  are  Haverill's 
and  Enroy's  divisions  of  the  Nineteenth.  General 
Crook  is  on  the  extreme  left,  with  Merritt's  cavalry. 
All  that  they  want  is  to  know  that  you  're  here." 

"And  all  I  want,  by ,"  cried  Sheridan,  'is 

to  get  those  men  up  that  went  to  the  rear.  We  '11 
whip  those  Rebel  rascals  back,  and  sleep  in  our 
old  camps  to-night!" 

He  now  came  full  upon  the  newly  forming 
Federal  line  of  battle.  It  was  as  if  an  electrical 
thrill  had  been  shot  through  the  entire  army,  from 
the  moment  of  Sheridan's  arrival  on  the  field. 
Cheer  after  cheer  rang  out,  to  be  taken  up  front 
and  rear,  and  far  around,  before  the  real  cause 
was  known.  Had  reinforcements  come?  Yes! 
Little  Phil  was  scorching  down  the  Pike,  and  he 
was  a  host  in  himself.  Sure  enough,  there  was  his 
energetic  small  figure,  on  the  big  horse,  his  eyes 
flashing  and  his  face  glowing  as  he  galloped  along, 
hat  in  hand,  just  to  show  himself  to  the  troops. 

"It 's  all  right!"  he  shouted.  "We  're  holding 
them,  and  WQ  '11  lick  them  yet! " 

The  General  rode  on  with  his  staff  and  escort, 


3i  8  Shenandoah 

and  in  a  minute  more  they  were  a  distant  con 
fused  mass  of  dust  and  flying  hoofs.  Suddenly 
from  the  westward  came  another  rolling  cloud, 
with  a  thunderbolt  in  its  midst — the  yellow- 
haired,  boyish  Custer,  the  youngest  general  in  the 
whole  Union  army,  a  flashing  cavalry  leader  whom 
the  enemy  hesitated  to  shoot  at,  declaring  that  if 
he  was  not  a  Southern  cavalier,  he  rode  and  fought 
like  one.  Custer  now  at  a  tearing  gallop  flew 
up  to  Sheridan,  threw  both  arms  around  him  and 
kissed  him  on  the  cheek  in  an  irrepressible  burst 
of  boyish  enthusiasm,  then  was  off  again  like  the 
wind. 

It  was  not  yet  noon — Sheridan  had  come  up  at 
ten-thirty — and  now  the  whole  stream  of  men  on 
Winchester  Turnpike  was  flowing  southward,  in 
stead  of  the  other  way,  full  of  fight  again.  Another 
tense  hour  sped  by — two  hours — and  still  Sheridan 
was  busy  re-forming  and  rearranging  his  lines, 
passing  the  whole  front  of  his  infantry  in  review, 
until  satisfied  that  their  shattered  morale  was 
sufficiently  restored  to  be  relied  on  once  more  for 
aggressive  work.  The  enemy's  fire  had  notice 
ably  slackened,  but  this  was  a  sign  to  be  acted  upon 
with  extreme  caution,  until  its  significance  could 
be  definitely  ascertained.  General  Sheridan  was 
still  obsessed  with  the  idea  that  Early's  aggres- 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour  319 

siveness  must  be  accounted  for  by  heavy  reinforce 
ments,  and  that  possibly  Longstreet  had  joined 
him,  after  all. 

When,  towards  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  the 
Confederates  made  a  bold  though  unsuccessful 
sally  against  General  Haverill's  division  and  the 
right  of  the  Sixth  Corps  commanded  by  General 
Buckthorn,  the  suspense  became  unendurable. 
Buckthorn  received  a  note  from  the  commanding 
general,  conveying  an  order  which  he  promptly 
transmitted  to  General  Haverill,  as  the  latter  oc 
cupied  the  position  from  which  the  movement 
could  most  effectively  be  made:  "Send  Lowell's 
cavalry  after  that  exposed  battery  at  the  edge  of 
the  woods,  with  the  object  of  bringing  in  as  many 
prisoners  as  possible." 

"Colonel  Lowell  has  just  fallen.  Will  send  his 
command  under  new  leader,  to  be  chosen  at  once." 

When  General  Haverill  made  this  response,  he 
was  already  looking  about  for  a  volunteer. 

A  cavalry  officer,  with  haggard  face  and  blood 
shot  eyes,  bareheaded,  jacketless,  his  shirt  open 
at  the  throat,  rested  in  a  field  to  the  east  of  Mid- 
dletown,  after  a  hurried  inspection  of  his  troopers, 
to  the  left  of  the  Union  line.  The  colonel  of  a 
New  York  regiment  rode  up,  proffered  a  flask, 
and  said: 


32O  Shenandoah 

"Colonel  West,  have  a  drink  with  me  before 
you  go  in  again.  You  seem  to  need  it,  and  I  ex 
pect  at  this  rate  you  '11  be  either  in  Hades  or  in 
glory  before  another  hour  passes." 

Contrary  to  his  reputation,  habit,  and  principle, 
Kerchival  West  accepted  the  kindly'  offer,  and 
swallowed  a  full-sized  man's  drink,  known  in 
trooper  parlance  as  a ' '  slug. ' '  Then,  as  if  suddenly 
possessed  by  a  demon,  he  swung  out  his  sabre, 
and,  turning  to  his  men  with  the  signal  cry  of 
"Now  for  the  charge! "  led  the  cavalry  in  a  bril 
liant  sortie  across  the  fenceless  meadows  and  at 
the  line  of  straggly  woods  where  the  advanced 
Rebel  battery  still  belched  forth  defiance. 

The  volunteer  had  come  forward  sooner  than 
anybody  expected. 

There  was  no  withstanding  such  impetuosity. 
The  charging  troopers  came  back  with  flying 
colors,  several  captured  guns,  and  a  score  of 
prisoners — first  herald  of  the  turning  tide  of 
victory.  But  now  their  wild  leader  was  not  riding 
at  their  head.  No  one  had  seen  him  fall.  Who 
ever  knew  what  had  happened  to  the  individual 
forgot  it  in  the  jubilant  excitement  over  the  general 
result  achieved. 

For  the  prisoners,  being  questioned  separately, 
were  unanimous  in  declaring  that  General  Early 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour  321 

had  received  no  reinforcements  whatsoever,  be 
yond  those  which  had  joined  him  at  Brown's  Gap, 
after  the  "Woodstock  races"  affa'r  at  Tom's 
Brook,  more  than  a  fortnight  back.  The  captured 
Confederates,  nothing  loath  to  talk,  threw  a  great 
light  upon  the  overwhelming  surprise  of  the  morn 
ing.  Early,  driven  to  desperation  by  lack  of 
supplies,  and  aware  by  reconnoissance  from  Three- 
Top  Mountain  of  the  exposed  condition  of  the 
Federal  left  flank,  as  well  as  of  Sheridan's  depar 
ture  with  a  large  body  of  the  mounted  troops  for 
Front  Royal,  had  seized  the  opportunity  to  make 
his  attack.  This  proving  successful  beyond  ex 
pectation,  the  half -starved  Confederates  had  begun 
to  hurrah  before  they  were  out  of  the  woods. 
When  Early  discovered  that  the  enemy  he  had 
supposed  defeated  had  got  its  second  wind  and 
was  preparing  to  turn  aggressor,  it  was  with  diffi 
culty  that  he  called  off  his  troops  from  the  plunder 
of  the  Union  camps  and  the  enjoyment  of  such 
unwonted  luxuries  as  real  coffee,  and  got  them  into 
line  for  a  fresh  assault. 

No  matter !  the  Federal  line  was  now  invincibly 
re-established.  At  four  o'clock  Sheridan  ordered 
the  grand  charge,  which  was  begun  under  his 
personal  direction  by  the  Nineteenth  Corps,  on 
the  right,  and  taken  up  by  the  successive  com- 


322  Shenandoah 

mands  along  the  line  to  the  left,  the  cavalry  on 
the  flanks  charging  at  the  same  time.  Then  the 
Confederate  batteries  opened  up,  and  the  roar  of 
artillery  and  the  splitting  crash  of  exploding  shells 
mingled  with  the  fierce  roll  of  the  musketry.  The 
firing,  while  it  lasted,  was  the  most  rapid  and 
constant  that  ever  had  been  heard  in  the  Valley. 
As  far  away  as  Winchester,  people  left  their  houses 
and  stood  in  silent  groups  outside,  listening  to  the 
terrifying  sounds  of  the  battle,  ten  miles  away, 
that  was  to  determine  the  next  fateful  drawing 
of  the  tragic  lottery  of  war. 

Colonel  Robert  Ellingham,  in  the  Southern 
ranks,  wondered  what  was  happening  at  Belle 
Bosquet.  In  the  forenoon  he  had  swept  with  his 
men  past  the  old  place,  facing  northward,  and 
seeing  everything  in  flight  ahead,  capturing  pri 
soners,  and  recapturing  their  own  men  who  had 
fallen  into  Federal  hands,  including  the  elusive 
Edward  Thornton.  Now  the  Confederates  were 
passing  the  same  point  again,  hurrying  and  still 
more  hurried  in  the  opposite  direction,  driven  from 
the  field  they  thought  they  had  won,  in  the  worst 
rout  of  which  poor  Bob  had  ever  been  a  part. 

"By  the  great  horn  spoon!"  said  General  Buck 
thorn  to  General  Haverill,  "we  're  going  to  have 
as  much  trouble  in  holding  our  men  back  from 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour  323 

charging  the  enemy  now,  as  we  did  to  stop  their 
retreat  this  morning!" 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  General  Sheridan 
to  hold  back  his  left  after  the  enemy  had  been  dis 
lodged,  and,  by  advancing  his  right,  to  force  the 
Confederates  to  the  east  of  the  Valley  Pike,  thus 
cutting  off  their  retreat  to  Strasburg  and  Fisher's 
Hill.  But,  even  as  the  veteran  Buckthorn  had 
whimsically  remarked,  the  troops  were  so  bent 
upon  avenging  their  reverses  of  the  morning  that 
there  was  no  restraining  them,  and  the  whole  line 
pressed  on  irresistibly  until  the  old  camps  on 
Cedar  Creek  had  been  regained,  together  with 
enough  prisoners,  guns,  wagons,  and  battle-flags 
to  turn  previous  mortification  into  riotous  joy, 
and  make  matter  for  a  rousing  despatch  to  send 
to  Washington. 

While  Early's  troops  were  still  running,  and 
Sheridan's  revelling,  the  customary  sad  truce  was 
declared,  in  order  to  permit  the  removal  of  the 
wounded  from  the  field,  and  the  decent  disposal 
of  the  dead.  Not  only  soldiers,  but  civilians 
from  far  and  near,  flocked  upon  the  scene.  From 
Winchester,  Kernstown,  Newtown,  Middletown, 
up  from  the  Valley  and  down  from  the  moun 
tains,  came  men  and  women,  searching  amidst 
the  heaped-up  horrors  where  late  the  battle  lines 


324  Shenandoah 

had  stood.  Some  came  for  love,  and  some,  alas ! 
for  loot.  Sunset  reddened  the  ghastly  field,  then 
fell  the  inky  pall  of  night,  and  the  lanterns  of  the 
ghostly  ministrants  twinkled  in  the  gloom,  far 
beyond  the  circling  camps. 

As  the  searchers  and  the  ambulance  corps  went 
over  the  desolated  ground,  an  uncouth  mountain 
eer  who  had  picked  up  a  good  Springfield  rifle, 
the  property  of  the  United  States  Government, 
was  halted  by  a  mounted  Union  officer,  and 
ordered  to  lay  down  his  booty.  Instead  of  obey 
ing,  he  stalked  around,  taking  in  every  detail  of 
the  officer's  outfit,  and  finally  said : 

"That 's  a  right  smart  pair  o'  boots  o*  yourn, 
Cap.  Ef  you  don't  look  sharp,  I  reckon  I  '11  git 
them,  next  time." 

"Now,  what 's  the  use  trying  to  beat  people 
like  that?"  muttered  the  soldier  of  Uncle  Sam,  as 
he  rode  off,  shaking  his  head. 

Gertrude  Ellingham,  Madeline  West,  and  Jenny 
Buckthorn,  led  by  Sergeant  Barket  and  followed 
by  the  faithful  Josephus,  made  up  one  of  the  most 
indefatigable  groups  of  rescuers.  They  had  as 
certained  that  Kerchival  West  was  not  among  the 
living  Federal  troops,  either  in  the  celebrating 
camps  or  in  the  hospital  tents.  Now  at  last  they 
sought  a  pitiful,  uncertain  comfort  in  satisfying 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour  325 

themselves  that  he  was  not  among  the  dead  on 
the  field. 

"General  Haverill  told  me,"  said  Gertrude, 
"that  although  our — I  mean  the  Southern — troops 
were  defeated,  they  managed  to  carry  off  a  con 
siderable  number  of  prisoners.  I  believe  Colonel 
West  is  amongst  them." 

"I  know  Captain  Heartsease  is,"  murmured 
Jenny,  forlornly. 

"If  nothing  worse  has  befallen  my  brother  than 
that,"  added  Madeline,  "I  suppose  I  ought  to  be 
thankful,  as  at  least  he  will  now  be  out  of  the  awful 
fighting.  But  it  is  a  cruel  injustice  if  that  wicked 
wretch,  Captain  Thornton,  is  still  to  be  at  large." 

They  rode  on  in  silence — for  General  Buckthorn 
had  seen  to  it  that  they  were  provided  with  mounts 
— until  at  last  Gertrude  exclaimed : 

"  I  can't  rest,  anyway — I'm  going  on.  Joseph  us 
will  follow  me.  You  girls  will  be  all  right — won't 
you,  dears?" 

"Where  are  you  going?"  cried  the  other  two, 
aghast. 

"On  to  the  Ford— and  then  to  Fisher's  Hill, 
or  Strasburg,  or  wherever  they  have  gone.  Don't 
mind  me — I  '11  bring  you  comforting  news,  or  I 
won't  come  back  at  all.  Goodnight!" 

And  before  they  could  persuade  her — that  was 


326  Shenandoah 

what  she  fled  from  now,  as  from  unbearable  torture 
— she  rode  off  exultantly  into  the  darkness  of  the 
mountain  shadows,  like  another  Valkyrie  bearing 
her  stricken  warrior's  soul  to  the  glorious  and 
blissful  Valhalla. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  VALLEY  OF  DESOLATION 

"A  moment  in  the  Federal  camp — 

A  moment,  and  away! 
Back  to  the  pathless  forest 

Before  the  peep  of  day. 
And  they  who  fly  in  terror  deem 

A  mighty  host  behind, 
And  hear  the  tramp  of  thousands 

Upon  the  hollow  wind." 

DELLE  BOSQUET  was  deserted.  For  miles 
*-~*  around  stretched  the  heart-sickening  pano 
rama  of  fenceless,  trampled  fields,  ruined  farms, 
and  empty  granaries.  Even  the  woodlands  wore 
a  blighted  look,  and  showed  sinister  burnt  patches 
on  the  hillsides.  Charred  skeletons  of  dwelling 
houses  and  mills,  fallen  chimneys,  and  blown-up 
bridges  and  foundations,  lined  the  turnpike  road 
and  its  lateral  crossings.  If  the  "crow  carrying 
its  rations"  across  this  devastated  tract  had  reached 
its  borders  by  the  leaden  light  of  one  of  those 
bleak  autumn  days,  he  would  have  gone  into 
hiding  until  night-time  to  complete  the  journey, 

327 


328  Shenandoah 

so  hopelessly  drear  an  aspect  pervaded  that  hollow 
and  silent  land. 

For  Sheridan  had  accomplished  only  too  literally 
the  fearsome  task  assigned  him  by  General  Grant : 
"In  pushing  up  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  .  .  . 
it  is  desirable  that  nothing  should  be  left  to  invite 
the  enemy  to  return.  Take  all  provisions,  forage, 
and  stock  wanted  for  the  use  of  your  command. 
Such  as  cannot  be  consumed,  destroy."  And  so 
the  beautiful  Valley  was  turned  into  a  barren 
waste,  lit  with  the  lurid  glare  of  two  thousand 
burning  barns  and  seventy  mills  filled  with  wheat 
and  corn  and  farming  utensils,  while  in  front  of 
the  victorious  army,  between  Winchester  and  the 
Potomac,  were  driven  numerous  flocks  of  sheep 
and  thousands  of  heads  of  cattle. 

The  same  destitution  that  compelled  Early  to 
retreat  as  far  as  Newmarket,  forty  miles  south  of 
Cedar  Creek,  to  supply  and  reorganize  the  broken 
Confederate  forces,  prevented  Sheridan  from  fol 
lowing  them  into  this  region.  His  cavalry,  how 
ever,  during  this  pause  in  the  movements  of  the 
main  army,  was  set  about  a  campaign  against  the 
guerilla  bands  of  Mosby  and  Gilmore.  These 
formidable  though  small  and  scattered  "gangs" 
of  irregulars  were  recruited  from  the  eastern  side 
of  the  Blue  Ridge,  whence  they  could  swoop  down 


The  Valley  of  Desolation         329 

upon  Federal  supply  and  ambulance  trains,  and 
then  fly  back  for  refuge  whenever  hard  pressed. 
Thus  the  whole  region  was  terrorized  by  a  cease 
less  desultory  warfare  of  the  most  ruthless  kind. 
There  were  grewsome  stories,  perhaps  only  too 
well  founded,  of  atrocities  and  recriminations  such 
as  soldiers  themselves  shudder  at  recounting, 
and  that  official  report  and  historical  record  prefer 
to  ignore. 

It  was  not  until  a  fortnight  after  the  battle  of 
Cedar  Creek  that  Gertrude  ElHngham  and  the 
small  party  of  friends  and  neighbors  who  journeyed 
with  her  and  likewise  followed  the  path  of  neces 
sity  as  well  as  of  duty  and  affection  in  moving 
southward  after  the  army,  came  up  with  the  corps 
that  had  been  General  Ramseur's,  and  which 
included  her  brother  Robert's  regiment. 

But  General  Ramseur  had  been  killed,  the 
cavalry  was  for  the  most  part  dismounted,  and 
Colonel  Ellingham's  precise  whereabouts  could 
not  be  ascertained.  He  had  gone  out  on  a  raid 
with  the  irregulars  who  were  harassing  Sheridan's 
rear,  to  prevent  his  carrying  out  General  Grant's 
orders  to  cut  Lee's  railroad  communications  by 
which  supplies  were  brought  from  the  South  for 
the  Confederate  army  at  Petersburg. 

"And  what  has  General  Early  done  with  the 


330  Shenandoah 

prisoners  he  brought  here?"  Gertrude  inquired, 
with  sinking  heart. 

"Sent  them  on — to  Danville,  maybe  to  North 
Carolina,  and  the  officers  probably  to  Richmond," 
was  the  vague  reply  she  got.  "You  see,  miss,  it 's 
hard  enough  scraping  now  to  feed  our  own  men." 

Kerchival  West  was  among  these  prisoners,  and 
so  was  Captain  Heartsease,  and  both  were  seem 
ingly  in  condition  to  bear  transportation.  This 
much  information  was  elicited  on  trustworthy 
authority,  and  it  compensated  for  the  hardships 
and  anxieties  through  which  the  dauntless  Vir 
ginian  girl  had  passed.  From  Staunton  she  sent 
these  reassuring  tidings  to  Jenny  Buckthorn,  who 
remained  with  her  father  at  Winchester,  and  to 
Madeline  West,  whom  General  Haverill  had  sent 
with  an  escort  to  Washington. 

Both  these  girls  realized,  as  Gertrude  herself  did, 
that  a  long  and  perilous  quest  alone  could  lead 
to  the  possible  ransom  of  the  two  Union  officers, 
Colonel  Kerchival  West  and  Captain  Heartsease, 
who  were  adrift  on  that  sea  of  misery  and  suffering 
and  horror,  the  hospitals  and  prisons  of  darkest 
war-time.  The  three  made  common  cause  of  their 
love,  their  sorrow,  and  their  efforts  at  relief,  the 
feminine  sacrifice  in  warfare,  as  heroic  as  that 
of  fathers,  brothers,  husbands,  and  sweethearts. 


The  Valley  of  Desolation         331 

Love  alone  must  guide  her  in  her  search,  Ger 
trude  declared,  but  she  had  the  courage  to  resolve 
that  love  should  win.  Her  home  was  broken  up, 
the  Valley  desolated,  and  the  cause  upon  which  all 
had  been  staked  was  narrowing  down  to  a  deadly 
crisis  where  mere  self-interest,  fortune,  even  life 
itself,  had  to  be  thrown  unhesitatingly  into  the 
balance. 

While  she  waited  at  Staunton  for  some  clue, 
some  enlightenment  to  determine  what  direction 
her  pilgrimage  should  take,  now  that  the  winter 
was  about  setting  in,  a  detachment  of  the  wild 
mounted  troops  came  up  the  Valley  from  a  suc 
cessful  raid  on  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio  Railroad, 
in  West  Virginia.  A  bearded  savage  rushed  with 
a  glad  cry  at  Gertrude — and  she  was  laughing  and 
crying  in  her  brother's  arms. 

"Oh,  Rob,"  she  faltered,  "I  was  beginning  to 
think  I  should  never  see  you  again,  nor  any  one 
else  I  loved." 

"Don't  give  up,  Sis!"  he  enjoined,  but  his  tone 
was  worried  and  serious.  "We  are  not  beaten 
yet.  If  we  have  to  leave  the  Valley,  the  enemy 
can't  stay  here,  either.  He  is  trying  to  prevent 
us  from  joining  General  Lee  at  Petersburg — but  in 
the  meantime  we  are  keeping  him,  and  an  army 
bigger  than  all  our  Confederate  forces  put  together, 


332  Shenandoah 

from  going  to  help  General  Grant,  who  after  all 
is  no  nearer  to  Richmond  than  McClellan  was 'two 
years  and  a  half  ago." 

"Oh,  never  mind  the  armies,  now.  Where  can 
I  find  those  two  poor  prisoners?" 

Bob  shook  his  head,  and  paced  the  floor  in 
troubled  silence. 

"I  don't  know — nobody  knows,"  he  finally 
answered.  "You  are  doing  the  only  thing  you 
can  do,  I  suppose,  but —  Why,  dear,  we  may 
as  well  face  the  truth.  There  are  probably  more 
brave  soldiers  pining  away  in  prison,  on  both  sides, 
than  have  been  killed  in  battle — and  sometimes 
I  think  it's  hard  to  say  which  is  the  worse  fate." 

"But  if  both  sides  have  so  many  prisoners  who 
are  suffering  and  dying,  why,  in  the  name  of 
humanity  and  common  sense,  don't  they  exchange 
them?" 

"*That  is  an  awful  question,  sister,  and  I  can't 
answer  it.  But  I  do  know  of  some  cases,  and  I 
have  heard  of  many  more,  where  Northern  soldiers 
have  died  in  our  prison  camps  for  lack  of  medi 
cines,  made  contraband  by  their  own  Government. 
It  does  seem  to  me  that  they  have  more  men  to 
spare  than  we  have,  and  that  they  care  less  than 
we  do  about  a  few  thousands  of  their  rank  and  file 
being  kept  in  our  'pens,'  as  they  are  rightly  called. 


The  Valley  of  Desolation         333 

That  is  why,  according  to  all  I  could  learn  in 
Richmond,  the  chief  obstacle  to  proper  exchange 
has  been  the  violation  of  the  cartel  by  the  civil 
and  military  authorities  of  the  United  States." 

"Oh,  dear,"  sighed  the  girl,  herself  suffering 
tortures,  "do  you  think  our  people  are  treating 
Colonel  West  and  Captain  Heartsease  so  cruelly 
as — as  some  make  out?" 

"I  hope  not,"  replied  Colonel  Ellingham. 
"Our  prison  commissaries  treat  officers  better 
than  they  do  common  soldiers,  but  I  'm  afraid  that 
does  not  amount  to  much,  now  that  our  own 
armies  are  so  scantily  supplied.  There,  now, 
don't  cry — that  is  n't  like  my  plucky  sister.  One 
thing  you  may  be  thankful  for,  and  that  is,  so 
long  as  we  were  under  the  necessity  of  letting 
Thornton  loose  once  more,  it  is  well  that  Ker- 
chival,  as  an  unidentified  prisoner,  is  not  under 
present  circumstances  very  likely  to  be  exposed  to 
his  tender  mercies." 

"Where  is  Thornton,  now?"  asked  Gertrude, 
anxiously. 

"To  my  certain  knowledge,  he  is  keeping  in 
touch  with  Mosby  at  Leesburg  or  Upperville. 
It  is  not  at  all  likely  he  even  knows  that  Kerchival 
was  captured  at  Cedar  Creek.  But  he  is  such 
a  vindictive  devil,  that  I  suppose  he  will  always 


334  Shenandoah 

be  looking  out  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  private 
revenge,  before  the  interests  of  the  Service." 

On  what  service  Robert  was  liable  to  be  called 
any  day,  it  was  impossible  to  predict ;  but  inasmuch 
as  Mosby's  battalion  of  cavalry  partisans  and  the 
few  regular  mounted  troops  co-operating  with  it 
constituted  the  only  available  force  upon  which 
General  Lee  could  count  to  defeat  Sheridan's 
plans,  there  was  little  likelihood  of  their  being 
withdrawn  from  the  Valley  or  its  approaches 
during  the  winter.  Gertrude  decided,  upon  her 
brother's  advice  as  well  as  her  own  inclination,  to 
go  on  to  Danville,  an  important  Confederate  base 
near  the  North  Carolina  line,  whither  many  pri 
soners  were  sent.  From  there,  it  would  be  con 
venient  either  to  reach  Richmond  or  to  proceed 
further  south  to  Salisbury,  or  Raleigh,  or  even 
to  Anderson ville,  Ga.,  should  the  sad  quest  be 
thus  prolonged. 

The  day  after  Gertrude's  departure,  Colonel 
EUingham  was  ordered  to  join  the  cavalry  com 
mand  which  General  Rosser  was  holding  loosely 
together,  being  obliged  to  scatter  it  throughout 
the  country  wherever  forage  could  be  obtained,  as 
there  was  none  at  Staunton.  The  disintegration 
of  Early 's  army  was  plainly  foreshadowed.  Mean 
while  the  advance  of  General  Sherman  northward 


The  Valley  of  Desolation         335 

through  the  Carolinas  called  for  the  concentration 
of  all  available  Confederate  soldiers  in  the  South 
and  East,  and  it  was  evident  that  no  considerable 
force  could  be  brought  to  interfere  with  Sheridan's 
scouting  in  the  Valley  or  his  long  contemplated 
expedition  eastward  towards  Lynchburg,  to  destroy 
as  much  of  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad  and  canal 
as  possible. 

In  the  Federal  camps,  at  Kernstown  and  Win 
chester,  the  bustle  of  confident  activity  and  a 
general  air  of  hopeful  expectation  were  as  marked 
as  the  spirit  of  grim,  dogged  determination  was 
behind  the  scenes  at  Confederate  headquarters. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  new  year,  one  of  the  two 
divisions  of  the  Nineteenth  Corps,  under  General 
Buckthorn,  was  sent  to  Petersburg,  reducing  the 
effective  force  of  the  Army  of  the  Shenandoah  to 
one  division  of  infantry  and  three  of  cavalry, 
General  Haverill's  among  the  latter. 

General  Haverill's  mood  of  sombre  reserve  was 
a  matter  of  inquietude  to  his  friends,  and  a  puzzle 
to  those  of  the  army  who  knew  him  only  in  his 
soldierly  capacity.  He  went  about  his  military 
duties  in  the  silent,  dispirited  manner  of  a  fatalist. 
Not  a  man  in  the  army  dared  to  formulate  the 
question  that  was  in  the  minds  of  many :  Did  the 
General  suspect  that  the  heroic  Lieutenant  Bedloe 


336  Shenandoah 

who  sacrificed  his  life  at  Three-Top  Mountain 
was  his  own  disgraced  son?  Those  who  knew 
best  declared  that  he  did  not — and  the  famous 
despatch  to  Washington  in  praise  of  "Bedloe's" 
deed  was  adduced  as  confirming  evidence. 

When  Gertrude  Ellingham  wrote  for  particulars 
as  to  Kerchival  West's  violation  of  the  order  of 
arrest  to  participate  in  the  battle  of  Cedar  Creek, 
the  General  replied  with  formal  brevity  that  he 
must  disclaim  responsibility  as  well  as  any  special 
knowledge  in  the  matter.  When  Jenny  Buck 
thorn  questioned  him  personally  in  the  hope  of 
getting  some  clue  that  might  aid  in  finding  Cap 
tain  Heartsease,  wounded  and  captured  in  Lieu 
tenant  Bedloe's  raid  upon  the  enemy's  signal 
station,  he  was  scarcely  more  communicative, 
except  on  one  point:  that  Captain  Heartsease, 
following  the  practice  of  Major  Young's  scouts, 
had  worn  a  Confederate  uniform,  which  would 
put  him  in  the  category  of  a  Secret  Service  officer 
or  spy,  and  therefore  prejudice  his  status  as  a 
prisoner  of  war. 

Evidently  General  Haverill  had  but  little  com 
fort  to  give  to  others;  and  it  was  certain  he  kept 
none  for  himself.  The  chain  of  circumstances, 
,from  the  unexplained  duel  of  Kerchival  West  and 
Edward  Thornton  at  Charleston,  to  the  recent 


The  Valley  of  Desolation         337 

happenings  in  which  Kerchival's  name  was  still 
coupled  with  that  of  Mrs.  Constance  Haverill, 
culminating  in  the  damning  fact  that  the  telltale 
miniature  portrait  given  in  a  trying  hour  to  young 
Frank  Haverill  had  turned  up  three  and  a  half 
years  later  in  the  possession  of  Colonel  West, 
bound  a  proud  and  sensitive  nature  like  that  of 
the  General  to  disdainful  silence. 

There  was  no  lack  of  occupation  to  keep  personal 
affairs,  whether  grave  or  trivial,  out  of  mind. 
The  diminution  of  Sheridan's  command  called  for 
increased  vigilance  and  constant  information  of 
the  movements  and  resources  of  the  enemy,  par 
ticularly  with  regard  to  the  dreaded  activities  of 
the  guerillas.  For  this  information,  chief  re 
liance  was  placed  on  the  excellent  force  of  scouts 
organized  by  Major  Young.  These  were  all 
soldiers,  and  it  had  been  the  determination  of 
General  Sheridan  to  maintain  the  military  integrity 
of  this  service  by  admitting  no  civilians  or  out 
siders  into  his  confidence.  In  at  least  one  notable 
instance,  this  wise  rule  was  broken,  to  the  General's 
subsequent  and  lasting  regret. 

A  Marylander  named  Lomas,  who  claimed  to 
be  a  deserter  from  Mosby's  band,  had  on  various 
occasions  brought  information  of  more  or  less 
accuracy  and  value,  until  he  came  to  occupy  a 


338  Shenandoah 

semi-official  position  of  trust  at  the  Union  head 
quarters.  He  then  strongly  urged  the  employ 
ment  of  a  friend  of  his  named  Renfrew,  supposed 
to  have  been  lately  within  the  war  councils  of  the 
Confederacy,  and  now  anxious  to  turn  his  knowl 
edge  to  account  in  the  interest  of  the  United 
States  Government.  Sheridan  was  not  enthusi 
astic,  but  told  Lomas  to  bring  his  colleague  into 
camp  for  examination. 

Renfrew  came  in  impenetrable  disguise  as  a 
mountaineer  Confederate  soldier,  but  in  his  own 
proper  person  proved  to  be  a  young  man  of  elegant 
appearance  and  polished  manner,  of  keen  intel 
ligence,  and  obviously  possessed  of  intimate 
acquaintance  with  Southern  military  as  well  as 
executive  affairs. 

The  Union  officers  thought  this  equipment  too 
complete  and  facile  to  be  altogether  trustworthy. 
Nevertheless,  they  believed  that,  under  due  sur 
veillance,  Renfrew's  services  might  be  of  value 
in  certain  directions. 

"Could  you  bring  me  a  detailed  report  of  re- 
connoissance  down  Strasburg  and  Front  Royal 
way,  and  over  the  railroad  line  to  Gordonsville?" 
Sheridan  asked. 

"  I  could,  indeed,  General,"  came  the  ready  reply 
— "  I  am  perfectly  at  home  throughout  that  region. 


The  Valley  of  Desolation         339 

I  will  confess,  however,  that  I  had  hoped  you 
would  not  think  of  sending  me  so  far  away  until 
after  the  fox  hunt." 

This  was  precisely  the  answer  that  General 
Sheridan  desired.  He  had  taken  elaborate  meas 
ures  to  spread  the  report  that  a  grand  fox  hunt 
was  in  anticipation,  and  had  even  procured  a 
number  of  caged  wild  foxes  to  substantiate  the 
rumor.  The  idea  was  that  such  a  report,  reaching 
General  Early  by  "grapevine  telegraph,"  might 
prompt  him  to  attempt  another  surprise  of  the 
Cedar  Creek  sort. 

Renfrew  and  Lomas  were  now  sent  off,  under 
pretence  of  great  urgency  and  secrecy,  on  the 
mission  of  reconnoissance.  At  the  same  time, 
half  of  Major  Young's  available  detective  force 
were  detailed  to  shadow  them,  and  to  seize  them, 
should  certain  suspicions  prove  correct.  These 
shadowers,  likewise  disguised  as  Confederate 
soldiers,  soon  caught  Messrs.  Renfrew  and  Lomas 
in  unmistakable  collusion  with  the  Confederate 
Secret  Service  headquarters  at  Staunton,  and 
attempted  to  close  in  upon  them  when  they  got 
to  Strasburg,  on  the  return  trip.  Here,  at  the 
critical  moment,  the  pursuers  unfortunately  mis 
took  a  real  Confederate  officer  for  one  of  their  own 
number,  disguised.  This  officer,  they  discovered 


34°  Shenandoah 

too  late,  was  none  other  than  the  notorious  Cap 
tain  Thornton.  True  to  his  black  reputation, 
when  hard  pressed  he  murdered,  in  cold  blood,  one 
of  the  would-be  captors,  whereupon  the  others 
made  their  escape,  with  the  utmost  difficulty,  leav 
ing  Thornton,  Lomas,  and  Renfrew  in  the  safe 
hands  of  their  local  sympathizers  and  accomplices. 
Thornton,  who  was  in  disrepute  with  the  Con 
federates  as  well  as  in  every  other  place  where  his 
baneful  activities  had  made  him  known,  now 
dropped  out  of  sight  permanently,  except  for  the 
brief,  tragic,  final  episode  of  his  career,  to  be  re 
counted  later.  His  two  accomplices,  who  sub 
sequently  turned  up  in  Baltimore,  but  contrived 
to  evade  arrest  there,  were  to  reappear  in  the  same 
portentous  connection. 

General  Sheridan's  work  in  the  Shenandoah 
Valley  was  now  practically  completed.  After 
Early's  final  defeat  by  Custer  at  Waynesboro 
where  he  made  his  last  stand,  he  took  to  the  woods, 
and  from  that  time  rendered  no  further  practical 
field  service  to  the  Southern  Confederacy.  Sheri 
dan  withdrew  his  main  force  and  marched  eastward, 
occupying  Charlottesville  without  resistance,  des 
troying  large  sections  of  the  railroad  between 
that  city  and  Lynchburg,  and  doing  as  much 
damage  as  possible  along  the  James  River  Canal. 


The  Valley  of  Desolation         341 

He  was  now  ready  to  plan  a  junction  with  General 
Grant  at  Petersburg,  convinced  that  a  decisive 
Federal  victory  there  would  open  the  gates  of 
Richmond  and  close  the  war. 

At  a  telegraph  station  somewhere  between 
Louisa  Court  House  and  Beaver  Dam,  a  captured 
despatch  from  General  Early  showed  him  to  be 
still  hovering  about  the  flanks  of  the  Union 
column,  with  the  last  remnant  of  the  army 
of  the  Valley.  This  was  soon  scattered  by 
Custer,  and  the  unfortunate  successor  of  Stone 
wall  Jackson  escaped  to  ride  into  Richmond 
with  a  scant  half-dozen  staff  officers  and  or 
derlies,  one  of  the  former  being  Colonel  Robert 
EUingham. 

Here  in  the  beleaguered  capital,  Bob  received 
the  first  direct  word  from  his  sister  Gertrude  that 
had  come  to  him  for  many  anxious  weeks.  She 
had  left  Danville,  after  a  long  and  harrowing 
search  there  which  disclosed  the  fact  that  Kerchi- 
val  West  was  among  a  convoy  of  sick  and  wounded 
prisoners  lately  "sent  on,"  presumably  to  Rich 
mond.  Thither  Gertrude  herself  was  now  mak 
ing  her  way  as  best  she  might,  attended  by  the 
unshakable  Josephus,  and  in  company  with  a 
family  from  Hicksville,  journeying  in  their  own 
conveyance  towards  Petersburg  over  the  miry 


342  Shenandoah 

and  hazardous  roads  of  that  section  of  Virginia 
in  the  early  springtime. 

"We  expect  Dinwiddie  Court  House  will  be 
our  next  stopping-place,"  Gertrude  wrote,  "but 
when  we  shall  reach  it,  or  at  what  hour  of  the  day 
or  night,  and  whether  or  not  there  will  be  a  shelter 
where  we  can  snatch  an  hour's  rest,  and  get  a  bite 
to  eat,  and  dry  our  clothes,  we  have  no  idea. 
Every  day,  so  far,  our  'kerrldge'  has  had  to  be 
dragged  out  of  mud  holes  by  mules  or  oxen,  if  not 
by  our  horses  aided  by  our  own  united  efforts. 
You  know  only  too  well,  poor  dear  Bob,  what 
the  roads  are,  with  troops  travelling  to  and 
fro,  and  artillery  and  heavy  wagons  cutting 
ruts  deeper  than  the  wheel-hubs,  and  nothing 
but  rainy  weather!  At  the  dear  old  hospitable 
farmhouse  where  we  were  put  up  last  night, 
they  said:  'Why  do  you  start  out  when  it  is 
raining?'  What  I  would  like  to  know  is,  why 
it  always  rains  just  when  we  are  starting  out! 
They  say  we  are  getting  right  into  the  tangle  of 
Federal  and  Confederate  lines,  and  that  the  woods 
are  full  of  Yankees.  Oh,  Rob!  how  little  that 
worries  me — how  happy  I  could  be  amidst  all 
these  discomforts  which  I  have  mentioned  to  you 
just  as  a  distraction,  if  only  I  knew  what  awaits 
at  the  journey's  end!  But  whatever  it  may  be, 


The  Valley  of  Desolation         343 

you  and  I  will  face  it  together,  and  I  hope — Oh, 
Rob!  you  will  do  all  that  is  possible,  won't  you, 
to  find  out  about  the  prisoners  at  Libby  and  Belle 
Isle  and  Castle  Thunder?  I  take  comfort,  some 
how,  in  the  feeling  that  there  will  be  a  clearing-up 
and  bright  skies  ahead,  if  only  we  persevere  in 
faith.  Don't  worry  about  me,  Rob.  My  con 
stant  prayers  for  you,  and  for — for  him,  until  we 
meet." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  SURRENDER 

"Chant  lustily  and  loud  the  strain 
Of  Roland  and  of  Charlemagne, 
And  the  dead  who  deathless  all 
Fell  at  famous  Roncesvalles!" 

TT  was  a  lovely  Sabbath  morning  of  springtime — 
1  the  2d  of  April,  1865.  The  church  bells  of 
Richmond  had  rung  out  the  summons  to  divine 
service.  A  strange  mirage  of  brightness  and  peace 
and  calm  hung  over  the  seven-hilled  city  shut 
within  a  fiery  circle  of  war,  like  benediction  before 
a  battle. 

At  St.  Paul's  Episcopal  Church,  the  usual  large 
and  aristocratic  congregation  listened  attentively 
to  the  earnest  discourse  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Minni- 
gerode.  Jefferson  Davis,  the  Chief  Executive  of 
the  Southern  Confederacy,  occupied  his  pew  in 
the  middle  of  the  central  aisle,  nearly  opposite 
the  now  vacant  one  belonging  to  General  Robert 
E.  Lee.  An  orderly  in  uniform  entered  the  church, 
somewhat  precipitately  yet  without  disturbance, 

344 


The  Surrender  345 

and  delivered  a  telegram  to  Mr.  Davis,  who  quietly 
rose  and  went  out.  The  occurrence  was  noticed, 
but  attracted  no  special  attention  amongst  a  con 
gregation  who  during  four  years  past  had  grown 
accustomed  to  sudden  alarms  and  untimely  notice 
of  threatened  attacks.  It  was  the  day  after  the 
battle  of  Five  Forks. 

The  despatch  was  from  General  Lee,  announcing 
his  withdrawal  from  Petersburg,  and  the  conse 
quent  necessity  for  the  immediate  evacuation  of 
Richmond.  "Immediate  evacuation"  meant  get 
ting  out  by  eight  o'clock  that  night.  The  news 
spread  as  only  such  news  can.  Women  prayed, 
men  wept  and  cursed  and  defied,  children  won 
dered,  negroes  rather  enjoyed  the  excitement — 
especially  after  the  issue  of  a  proclamation  to  the 
effect  that  all  who  wished  might  come  to  the 
Commissary  Department  and  get  free  provisions. 

As  for  the  soldiers,  they  had  their  orders  from 
General  Lee :  troops  were  to  leave  their  lines  every 
where  at  eight  o'clock  that  evening,  and  take  up 
the  line  of  march  for  Amelia  Court  House,  a  small 
Virginia  village  on  the  Richmond  &  Danville 
Railroad,  some  forty  miles  southwest  of  Richmond. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  Colonel  Robert  Elling- 
ham  hastily  dismounted  from  his  horse  in  front 
of  a  house  in  Franklin  Street,  and  sprang  up  the 


346  Shenandoah 

front  steps.  Before  he  reached  the  door,  it  flew 
open,  and  Gertrude,  freshly  dressed  in  white  lawn, 
extended  both  hands  in  eager  welcome.  Beside 
her,  in  black  civilian  clothes,  stood  what  looked 
like  the  ghost  of  Kerchival  West.  In  the  back 
ground  appeared  another  familiar  phantom  of  the 
far  past — none  other  than  Doctor  Ellingham,  of 
Charleston,  now  white-haired  and  more  aged- 
looking  than  the  lapse  of  years  alone  should  have 
called  for. 

' '  Sister !  Kerchival,  old  boy !  Uncle ! ' '  panted 
Bob,  full  of  excitement.  "Were  you  prepared  for 
the  news?  What  do  you  think  you '11  do?" 

"Kerchival  and  I  are  going  to  be  married  right 
away,"  answered  Gertrude,  with  the  astounding 
imperturbability  of  one  who  had  arranged  and 
settled  everything. 

"Married!"  gasped  Bob,  instinctively  clutching 
the  air,  as  if  for  support.  "Now? — at  such  a 
time?  Don't  you  know  that  I  am  under  marching 
orders,  and  that  President  Davis  and  the  Cabinet 
are  to  leave  for  Danville  by  the  evening  train — 
and  that  the  Federal  army  will  be  occupying  Rich 
mond  by  this  time  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  Robert — we  were  in  church  this  morning 
when  the  news  came.  Kerchival  and  I  have 
figured  it  all  out,  and  the  Doctor  agrees  with  us, 


The  Surrender  347 

that,  as  Richmond  has  fallen,  and  Kerchival  has 
been  released  from  Libby  on  parole,  and  Uncle  is 
here  from  Charleston,  the  only  way  for  us  two  to 
guard  against  separation  is  to  get  married  now, 
so  that  I  can  be  with — with  my  husband,  whatever 
happens.  So  we  have  sent  for  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Minnigerode,  and,  now  that  you  are  here,  the 
ceremony  can  be  performed,  and  you  can  be  off  to 
join  General  Lee  in  half  an  hour's  time — for  I 
suppose  he  will  need  you  now  more  than  ever." 

"Yes.  So  that  is  the  plan,  eh?  Is  that  the 
way  you  see  it,  Kerchival?" 

"Unless  you  have  some  objection,  Bob,"  an 
swered  Kerchival,  with  his  wan  smile,  "it  really 
seems  the  best  thing  to  do.  I  am  only  out  on 
parole,  and  no  one  can  tell  what  is  about  to 
happen." 

"You  are  right, — bless  you  both,  my  children! 
If  only  Madeline  were  here " 

"I  promise  to  do  as  much  as  this  for  you,  Bob, 
when  your  time  comes — and  may  that  be  soon 
and  sudden,  too." 

So  they  were  married,  Kerchival  and  Gertrude; 
and  Colonel  Ellingham  left  them,  immediately 
after  the  ceremony,  radiantly  happy  together  in 
the  midst  of  the  climactic  converging  of  all  the 
storms  of  war. 


348  Shenandoah 

Gertrude  had  arrived  to  find  Richmond  bank 
rupt  and  Petersburg  shivering  and  starving,  yet 
the  people  in  both  places  buoyant  with  faith,  and 
persistently  ignoring  the  reverses  and  troubles 
piling  up  all  around  them.  She  herself  became 
infected  with  this  nonchalant  spirit,  as  soon  as 
she  found  that  her  lover  was  "safe"  in  Libby, 
where  the  coldly  proffered  but  efficacious  influence 
of  General  Haverill  might  be  counted  upon  to 
secure  his  release,  now  that  the  Southerners  were 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  skimping  the  rations 
even  of  their  own  Spartan  soldiers.  Dr.  Elling- 
ham,  incapacitated  by  illness  from  further  service 
in  the  field,  had  removed  the  wreck  of  his  home 
and  fortune  to  the  Virginia  capital,  after  the  bom 
bardment  and  siege  of  Charleston  by  Major- 
General  Gilmore.  His  house  now  gave  shelter 
to  his  dauntless  niece  from  the  Shenandoah  Valley, 
and  his  conduct  of  the  Confederate  end  of  the 
negotiations  which  eventually  brought  about  a 
general  exchange  of  sick  prisoners  and  the  parole 
of  Kerchival  West  constituted  the  supreme  bene 
faction  in  that  time  of  bitterest  need. 

The  material  circumstances  which  were  deemed 
but  trifling  inconveniences  by  comparison  with 
affairs  of  the  heart,  and  of  pride  and  principle, 
included  an  appalling  scarcity  of  food,  clothing, 


The  Surrender  349 

fuel,  and  provender  for  horses,  and  a  correspond 
ing  excess  of  Confederate  paper  money,  popularly 
declared  with  but  slight  exaggeration  to  be  "not 
worth  ten  cents  per  yard. "  There  must  have  been 
a  billion  dollars  of  it  in  circulation,  and  60  for  I 
represented  its  purchasing  power  in  exchange 
for  real  specie  money.  Bacon  was  $9  per  pound, 
and  corn-meal  $20  per  peck.  Milk  would  have 
been  $4  per  quart,  had  there  been  any  on  sale. 
Rice,  peas,  parched  corn,  and  dried  apples  were 
staples  of  the  daily  menu.  In  some  mansions  of 
wealth,  firewood  was  stored  in  the  pantry,  and 
(unless  rumor  exaggerated)  one  might  occasionally 
even  find  a  chicken  tied  to  a  bedpost!  But  still, 
tea  parties  were  given  sans  tea,  and  piano-music 
and  dancing  were  plentiful  at  no  increased  cost. 
The  fugitives  from  shot  and  shell,  the  orphans 
from  fire  and  sword,  laughed  as  the  thunder  of 
guns  rolled  up  from  the  banks  of  the  Appomattox; 
for  their  faith  in  "Uncle  Robert."  Lee  and  his 
shoeless,  starving  soldiers  amounted  to  an  abiding 
and  sustaining  superstition. 

On  this  eventful  Sunday  of  April,  while  the 
streets  were  full  of  people  hurrying  in  all  directions 
at  the  order  of  evacuation,  and  the  forces  of  dis 
order  were  already  gathering  for  the  riots  that 
would  break  loose  at  nightfall,  the  newly- wedded 


35°  Shenandoah 

pair  stood  hand  in  hand  at  the  window  in  the  old- 
fashioned  parlor  fronting  on  Franklin  Street. 
Gertrude  said: 

"Oh,  Kerchival!  I  am  so  thankful,  and  so 
happy.  Are  you?" 

"You  have  answered  your  question  in  asking 
it,  my  darling,"  he  replied,  with  grave  tenderness. 
"I  am  as  happy  as  you  are.  You  have  given  to 
me,  and  yet  you  still  have,  your  joy  in  life  and 
your  heart  of  faith." 

"Ah!  does  that  remind  you  of  anything?  Do 
you  remember  the  text  of  Dr.  Hoge's  sermon,  that 
first  time  we  went  to  church  together,  to  celebrate 
your  freedom?  It  was:  'By  faith,  Moses,  when 
he  was  come  to  years,  refused  to  be  called  the  son 
of  Pharaoh's  daughter;  choosing  rather  to  suffer 
affliction  with  the  people  of  God,  than  to  enjoy 
the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season. ' ' 

President  Davis  and  his  Cabinet  had  left 
Richmond  by  special  train  for  Danville.  Colonel 
Robert  EUingham  had  hurried  away  on  horseback 
in  the  opposite  direction,  immediately  after  the 
marriage  ceremony,  to  join  the  army  of  General 
Lee,  now  marching  out  of  Petersburg  up  the  north 
side  of  the  Appomattox  River  towards  Amelia 
Court  House. 

The  only  people  who  remained  in  Richmond 


o 


The  Surrender  351 

were  those  who  were  poor  and  could  not  go  away ; 
or  those  who,  like  the  Ellinghams,  had  home  in 
terests  to  hold  them  there  and  no  other  place  to 
go  to  should  they  leave  the  city ;  and  those  others 
who,  like  Colonel  Kerchival  West,  were  Union 
soldiers  in  Confederate  prisons  or  on  parole. 
General  Ewell,  in  military  command  at  Richmond, 
had  made  arrangements,  in  obedience  to  a  Con 
gressional  war  ordinance,  to  burn  all  the  tobacco 
stored  in  the  warehouses,  so  that  it  should  not  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  These  fires  were 
started  by  the  soldiers,  and  left  to  spread  un 
checked  and  uncontrolled.  Night-time  came, 
but  darkness  did  not  fail,  for  the  red  glow  of  con 
flagration  was  over  all.  Before  midnight,  whole 
blocks  of  stores  and  public  buildings  in  the  busi 
ness  section  between  Main  Street  and  the  river 
were  flaming,  smoking,  or  blackened  heaps  of  ruins. 
The  stately  residences  of  the  upper  sections  were 
threatened,  not  only  by  the  rain  of  sparks,  but  by 
incendiaries  who  ran  amuck  with  lighted  torches, 
and  threw  blazing  tar-balls  upon  roofs  and  into 
balconies.  Looters  had  free  license.  Boxes  of 
provisions  were  strewn  about  the  streets,  barrels  of 
liquor  were  broken  open,  and  the  gutters  ran  with 
whiskey  and  molasses.  The  night  was  hideous 
with  the  yells,  curses,  and  songs  of  drunken  sol- 


352  Shenandoah 

diers  and  negroes.  The  few  people  in  the  fine 
houses  moved  about  through  darkened  rooms, 
talking  in  whispers,  or  sat  all  night  watching 
behind  closed  blinds. 

At  eight  o'clock  next  morning,  April  3d,  the 
flag  of  the  Southern  Cross  which  had  fluttered 
over  the  Capitol  for  four  years  came  down,  and 
the  Union  emblem  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  was  run 
up  in  its  place.  Richmond  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  Federals,  under  General  Weitzel. 

At  the  same  time,  General  Grant  was  riding 
into  Petersburg,  through  deserted  streets,  between 
rows  of  closed,  silent  houses.  The  next  day  he 
started  with  his  army  after  the  departing  Confed 
erates,  his  columns  moving  south  of  the  Appomat- 
tox  parallel  to  Lee's  route  north  of  that  stream. 
He  had  foreseen  that  Lee  in  his  retreat  would 
endeavor  to  reach  Amelia  Court  House,  where 
his  separate  columns  coming  from  Petersburg  and 
Richmond  could  unite,  and  where  he  might  ex 
pect  to  receive  supplies.  A  Confederate  courier 
captured  by  Sheridan's  cavalry  was  found  to  be  car 
rying  a  duplicate  despatch  confirming  the  supposi 
tion  that  supplies  had  been  ordered  to  that  point, 
also  indicating  that  Lynchburg,  and  not  Danville 
as  originally  planned,  was  the  objective  point  of 
Lee's  army. 


The  Surrender  353 

At  Amelia  Court  House,  where  instead  of  get 
ting  the  expected  rations  the  gaunt,  sun-browned 
Southern  soldiers  had  to  fill  their  knapsacks  with 
ears  of  corn  to  be  parched  en  route,  Colonel  El- 
lingham  once  more  ran  across  that  tireless  optimist 
of  the  Cause,  Major  Ruffin — he  of  the  uncompro 
mising  belligerency,  who  had  fired  the  first  shot 
on  Sumter,  at  Charleston,  now  nearly  four  years 
agone. 

"Well,  Major,"  said  Bob,  "you  see  we  are  still 
at  it — trying  out  your  proposition  that  the  great 
Southern  Confederacy  is  invincible." 

"Yes,  and  I  'm  proud  to  see  you,"  responded 
the  old  fire-eater.  "If  they'd  let  me,  I'd  be 
right  glad  to  march  on  with  you  to  Lynchburg, 
where  General  Lee  can  form  a  junction  with 
Johnston's  army,  and  carry  on  the  war  for  twenty 
years  more,  if  necessary.  Never  say  die,  sir!" 

Two  days  later,  the  retreat  continuing,  Sheridan 
descended  with  a  large  force  upon  the  Confederate 
rear  guard  at  Sailor's  Creek,  a  small  tributary 
flowing  north  into  the  Appomattox,  and  over 
whelmed  the  commands  of  Generals  Ewell  and 
Anderson,  capturing  these  and  several  other  high 
officers,  including  General  Lee's  eldest  son,  General 
G.  W.  Custis  Lee. 

On  April  yth,  the  Confederates  stopped  at 
33 


354  Shenandoah 

Farmville  to  feast — having  come  up  with  the  first 
provisions  that  had  reached  them  since  leaving 
Petersburg — and  to  fight  again.  This  time  they 
succeeded  in  beating  off  Sheridan's  cavalry,  and 
pushed  on  another  stage  towards  Lynchburg. 

But  the  once  great  Army  of  Northern  Virginia 
was  now  reduced  to  two  small  corps  of  infantry, 
and  the  cavalry  corps  under  Generals  Fitz  Lee, 
Gordon,  and  Rosser — for  the  one-time  commander 
of  the  Laurel  Brigade  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley 
had  rallied  a  new  mounted  force,  and  was  now 
doing  yeoman's  service  in  an  all  but  hopeless 
campaign  where  laurels  were  scarce,  but  where 
loyalty  and  courage  did  not  go  unhonored. 

Colonel  Robert  Ellingham  was  with  Gordon, 
whose  cavalry  corps,  after  fighting  all  the  way  from 
Petersburg  as  rear  guard  for  the  wagon  trains,  was 
now  transferred  to  the  front. 

"My  corps  is  worn  to  a  frazzle,"  said  the  gallant 
Gordon,  at  the  campfire  council  on  the  night  of 
the  8th,  "but  if  the  force  beyond  Appomattox 
Court  House  is  Sheridan's  cavalry  alone,  we  can 
hold  it  until  Longstreet  comes  up,  and  then  cut 
through." 

The  attack  was  made  at  daybreak.  There  was 
a  moment  when  it  took  on  the  factitious  look  of  a 
victory,  as  the  Confederate  lines  charged, cheering 


The  Surrender  355 

wildly,  and  redoubled  their  fire,  while  the  Union 
cavalry  slowly  fell  back.  They  did  not  know 
that  Sheridan  already  had  the  game  in  his  hands, 
and  was  now  only  skirmishing  for  a  wind-up,  with 
out  incurring  any  more  loss  than  should  be  ab 
solutely  needful.  No  sooner  had  the  cavalry 
disappeared  from  their  front  than  Lee's  troops  saw 
the  solid  infantry  lines  of  the  Army  of  the  James 
massed  before  them,  ready  for  an  attack.  Long- 
street,  covering  the  Confederate  rear,  was  at  the 
same  time  threatened  by  Meade  with  a  superior 
force,  and  could  not  come  to  Gordon's  aid.  The 
firing  suddenly  ceased.  The  Confederate  line 
halted,  hesitated,  then  sullenly  faced  about  and 
fell  back  upon  the  confused,  forlorn  mass  of  ragged 
grays  that  were  huddled  around  Appomattox 
Court  House. 

"The  war  in  Virginia  is  over,"  said  Sheridan 
to  General  Haverill,  passing  as  the  latter's  troops 
still  advanced,  until  a  white  flag  of  truce  appeared 
in  the  distance,  approaching  like  a  reluctant  dove 
of  peace. 

The  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  had  fought  to 
the  last  ditch,  and  still  stood  unconquered,  hold 
ing  out  for  honorable  terms  of  surrender.  Bril 
liant  as  General  Lee's  battles  had  been,  the  demon 
strations  of  genius  and  character  which  he  gave  in 


356  Shenandoah 

this  six  days'  retreat  from  Petersburg  and  Rich 
mond  rivalled  the  lustre  of  his  greatest  victories. 

"Then,  there  is  nothing  left  me  but  to  go  and 
see  General  Grant,"  he  now  said. 

"Oh,  General!"  came  the  protest  of  his  lieu 
tenants,  "what  will  the  world  say  of  the  surrender 
of  your  army  in  the  field?" 

"Yes,  they  will  say  hard  things  of  us,  I  know. 
They  will  not  understand  how  we  were  over 
whelmed  by  numbers.  But  that  is  not  the  ques 
tion.  The  question  is,  is  it  right  to  surrender? 
If  it  is  right,  then  I  will  take  all  the  responsibility." 

The  note  brought  under  flag  of  truce  to  the 
Federal  lines  was  General  Lee's  reply  to  an  earlier 
communication  from  General  Grant.  The  propo 
sition  had  been  made,  and  accepted,  for  a  suspen 
sion  of  hostilities  pending  negotiations  looking 
to  the  surrender  of  Lee's  army.  General  Grant 
at  this  moment  was  some  miles  distant  from  Ap- 
pomattox  Court  House,  on  the  Farmville  and 
Lynchburg  road.  In  his  absence  no  definite  ar 
rangements  could  be  made.  But  a  swift  courier 
was  despatched  with  the  message,  and  the  troops 
were  halted  in  their  respective  positions. 

During  the  interval  occupied  by  these  arrange 
ments,  a  stately,  gray-bearded  Federal  officer 
approached  Colonel  Ellingham,  who  had  been 


The  Surrender  357 

sent  by  General  Gordon  with  the  flag  of  truce,  and 
drawing  something — doubtless  a  document — from 
his  side  pocket,  said: 

"Colonel,  I  have  been  requested,  while  waiting, 
to  extend  to  you  the  courtesies  of  this  side  of  the 
line" — at  the  same  time  proffering  the  supposed 
document,  which  proved  to  be  a  silver  flask. 

Poor  Bob  was  worn,  hungry,  and  dispirited ; 
but  he  downed  the  temptation  manfully,  saying 
politely : 

"I  thank  you,  General,  but  having  been  sent 
here  under  grave  circumstances,  solely  to  bring  and 
return  communication,  I  fear  I  cannot  properly 
either  accept  or  offer  any  courtesies." 

The  only  material  courtesy  he  could  have  offered 
would  have  been  to  hand  out  the  unparched  corn 
with  which  his  coat-tail  pocket  was  stuffed! 

The  Union  officer  bowed,  begged  pardon,  and 
returned  the  flask  to  his  pocket  without  looking  at 
it  again.  Then  he  approached  a  step  nearer,  and 
said  in  a  hearty  tone: 

"Very  good,  Robert !  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you 
are  still  true  to  your  old  principles  of  temperance 
and  strict  attention  to  duty." 

Then  Colonel  Ellingham  recognized  General 
Haverill — the  Mexican  War  comrade  of  his  father 
under  the  old  flag,  and  his  own  and  Gertrude's 


358  Shenandoah 

guardian  until  the  great  sundering  of  sacred  ties 
by  the  awful  outbreak  of  civil  strife  that  now  had 
spent  itself  after  laying  the  country  and  its  homes 
and  industries  desolate. 

And  as  he  stood  there  under  the  flag  of  truce, 
in  the  condition  of  a  conquered  rebel  before  the 
powerful,  uncompromising  foe,  the  young  South 
ern  soldier  felt  his  heart  go  out  to  the  veteran 
warrior  of  the  Union,  now  gray  and  careworn 
from  long  service  and  heart-breaking  sacrifice  at 
the  altar  of  patriotism. 

"We  meet  under  difficult  circumstances,  General 
Haverill,"  faltered  Bob,  "but — I  trust  there  are 
no  hard  feelings?" 

"None,  Robert,  my  boy — quite  the  contrary.  It 
is  time,  God  knows !  How  are  Gertrude,  and " 

"She  and  Kerchival  were  married  last  Sunday," 
answered  Bob.  He  saw  the  General's  face  alter 
strangely,  and  his  whole  attitude  stiffen,  as  if  his 
heart  had  suddenly  frozen.  So  he  hastened  to  add : 
"But  we  have  not  been  able  to  locate  Captain 
Heartsease,  and  I  hardly  dare  to  speculate  as  to 
what  has  become  of  him." 

"On  that  point,  I  can  give  you  welcome  news," 
said  General  Haverill,  recovering  his  old  cordiality. 
"He  escaped  while  being  transferred  from  Danville 
and  came  to  us  at  Petersburg  to  rejoin  the  corps. 


The  Surrender  359 

But  he  was  in  no  condition  for  campaigning,  so  I 
sent  him  on  to  Washington,  where  I  have  no  doubt 
Miss  Jenny  Buckthorn  will  succeed  in  nursing 
him  to  recovery." 

In  due  time  word  was  received  from  General 
Grant  that  he  was  coming  on  immediately  to  dis 
cuss  terms  of  surrender  with  the  Southern  com 
mander.  General  Grant's  courier  found  General 
Lee  near  Appomattox  Court  House,  lying  under  an 
apple-tree  upon  a  blanket  spread  over  some  rails 
— whence  originated  the  report  about  Lee's  having 
surrendered  "beneath  the  apple-tree  of  Appo 
mattox." 

The  historic  meeting  of  the  two  generals  really 
took  place  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Wilmer  McLean, 
a  Virginian  who  before  and  during  the  first  battle 
of  Manassas  had  resided  at  McLean's  Ford,  over 
Bull  Run,  and  who  had  removed  thence  to  Appo 
mattox  expressly  in  order  to  be  out  of  the  war's 
way.  What  a  strange  freak  of  destiny  was  that 
which  now  brought  both  armies  to  this  fancied 
secure  retreat  to  end  here  the  fighting  begun  at 
Bull  Run  nearly  four  years  previously ! 

General  Grant,  accompanied  by  Generals  Sheri 
dan  and  Ord,  and  several  other  officers,  including 
General  Haverill,  presented  a  striking  contrast 
to  General  Lee,  who  with  a  couple  of  staff  officers 


360  Shenandoah 

awaited  him  in  the  old-fashioned  parlor  of  the 
McLean  residence. 

Grant,  forty-three  years  old,  medium-sized  and 
somewhat  stoop-shouldered,  wore  no  marks  of 
rank  except  a  general's  shoulder-straps  on  his  blue 
flannel  blouse.  His  trousers  were  tucked  in  his 
boots,  and  he  had  neither  spurs  nor  sword.  Lee, 
a  dozen  years  older  than  his  late  adversary,  had 
the  stature  and  bearing  of  an  old  knight  crusader. 
His  hair  and  beard  were  silver-gray.  He  wore  a 
plain  but  handsome  uniform  of  Confederate  gray, 
top  boots  with  spurs,  gauntlets,  and  a  dress  sword. 
This  unaccustomed  side-arm  was  a  splendid  blade, 
engraved  on  one  side  with  the  motto:  "Aide  toi 
et  Dieu  t'aidera,"  on  the  other  side  with  the  in 
scription,  reminiscent  of  the  campaign  that  had 
ended  at  Antietam:  "General  Robert  E.  Lee, 
from  a  Mary  lander,  1863." 

The  two  commanders,  now  brought  together  to 
arbitrate  the  destinies  of  a  nation,  had  met  once, 
eighteen  years  before,  in  Mexico,  when  Lee  was 
an  engineer  officer  on  the  staff  of  General  Scott, 
and  Grant  a  subaltern  of  infantry.  After  a 
pleasant  allusion  to  that  meeting,  with  the  ex 
change  of  greetings,  General  Lee  proceeded  at 
once  to  the  business  in  hand,  by  saying : 

"General  Grant,  it  is  due  to  a  frank  under- 


The  Surrender  361 

standing  between  us  that  I  should  say  at  the  outset 
that  I  am  willing  to  discuss  surrender  only  on  terms 
consistent  with  the  honor  of  my  army,  which 
otherwise  is  prepared  to  resist  to  the  very  last." 
"I  have  no  idea  of  proposing  any  but  honorable 
terms,  General,"  replied  Grant,  "but  I  should  be 
glad  to  have  you  outline  what  you  would  consider 
as  such." 

The  terms  of  surrender  discussed  and  reduced 
to  writing  at  General  Lee's  request,  embraced  the 
parole  of  officers  and  men  "not  to  take  up  arms 
against  the  Government  of  the  United  States 
until  properly  exchanged";  arms,  artillery,  and 
public  property  to  be  turned  over  to  Federal  of 
ficers; — this  latter  provision  not  embracing  the 
side-arms  of  the  Confederate  officers,  nor  their 
private  horses  or  baggage. 

Before  this  draft  was  copied  in  ink  for  signing, 
General  Lee  took  opportunity  to  remark  that  his 
cavalrymen  and  many  of  the  artillerymen  owned 
their  horses,  and  asked  whether  these  men,  as  well 
as  the  officers,  would  be  permitted  to  retain  them. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Grant  sympathetically,  "that 
a  great  many  of  the  men  in  your  ranks  are  small 
farmers  when  they  are  at  home,  and  in  that  case 
will  need  their  horses  just  now  to  put  in  crops  to 
carry  themselves  and  their  families  through  next 


362  Shenandoah 

winter.  Well,  then,  we  will  have  it  set  down  that 
any  man  who  claims  to  own  a  horse  or  mule  may 
retain  the  animal  and  take  it  home  with  him." 

"That  will  have  a  very  good  effect,"  said  Lee, 
much  gratified. 

The  Union  commander  acted  with  good  grace 
in  his  own  disposition,  and  at  the  same  time  was 
in  perfect  accord  with  the  expressed  wish  of  Presi 
dent  Lincoln  at  Richmond,  when  General  Weitzel 
had  asked  what  he  should  do  in  regard  to  the 
"  conquered  people  " : 

"Oh,  if  I  were  you,  I  'd  let  'em  up  easy,"  was 
Mr.  Lincoln's  reply — "I  'd  let  'em  up  easy." 

Indeed,  the  behavior  of  Grant  at  Appomattox 
touched  the  heights  of  true  poetic  chivalry,  spring 
ing  from  a  kind  and  magnanimous  heart.  He 
neither  demanded  nor  accepted  Lee's  sword,  as 
formal  military  custom  might  have  justified  him 
in  doing,  but  actually  apologized  for  not  having 
his  own,  which  in  the  hurry  of  departure  he  had 
left  behind  in  the  wagon. 

After  the  formal  preliminaries  to  the  surrender 
had  been  concluded,  without  any  dramatic  bun 
combe  or  parade  of  triumph,  General  Lee  feelingly 
alluded  to  the  destitution  of  his  soldiers,  and  their 
prisoners,  who  for  a  week  past  had  been  living 
chiefly  upon  parched  corn,  and  were  badly  in  need 


The  Surrender  363 

of  both  rations  and  forage.  Here  General  Sheridan 
was  consulted,  and  said  he  could  send  25,000 
rations  at  once.  That  amount,  General  Lee  de 
clared,  would  be  ample,  and  would  give  welcome 
relief.  Probably  not  10,000  men  of  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia  were  present  under  arms  at 
the  surrender.  The  total  number,  including  those 
who  afterward  reported  for  parole,  was  about 
26,000.  They  were  outnumbered  by  Grant's 
army  in  the  proportion  of  more  than  six  to  one. 

General  Lee  bowed  to  the  Federal  officers 
present,  and  departed  from  the  McLean  house, 
pausing  a  moment  as  he  descended  the  steps  to 
look  sadly  out  over  the  valley  where  his  army  lay, 
then  mounted  his  gray  war-horse,  Traveller,  and 
rode  back  to  the  Confederate  lines.  His  war-worn, 
tattered  veterans  crowded  around  him,  and — 

"  Something  on  the  soldier's  cheek 
Washed  off  the  stain  of  powder." 

The  only  words  he  could  utter  were: 

"Men,  we  have  fought  through  the  war  together. 

I  have  done  my  best  for  you.     My  heart  is  too 

full  to  say  more." 

Three  days  after  the  surrender,  the  Army  of 

Northern  Virginia  was  but  a  name  and  a  memory 

—its  veterans,  after  four  years'  service  marked  by 


364  Shenandoah 

unsurpassed  courage  and  fortitude,  without  re 
ward  or  glory,  had  quietly  disbanded,  to  exchange 
the  sword  and  musket  for  the  implements  of  peace 
and  husbandry. 

Throughout  the  country,  the  announcement 
was  received  with  varied  emotions;  but  every 
where,  North  and  South  alike,  went  up  a  profound 
sigh  of  relief. 

In  many  a  New  England  village,  many  an  em 
bowered  town  of  the  Middle  and  Western  States, 
handbills  printed  in  flaming  red  proclaimed : 

"THANK  GOD! 

"Lee  Has  Surrendered 
with  his  Army  of 

30,000 
to  General  Grant. 

"There  will  be  a  Grand  Celebration 

with  Fireworks  at  the 

Town  Hall,  this  evening 

at  8  o'clock. 

"COME  ONE,  COME  ALL! 

"Those  owning  horses  will  please  ride 
them,  and  join  in  the  Cavalry  Parade." 

From  Amelia  County,  Virginia,  came  news  of 
the  suicide  of  Major  Edmund  Ruffin.  He  had 


The  Surrender  365 

shot  himself  through  the  head  upon  hearing  that 
Lee  had  surrendered. 

"There  was  a  character  for  you,  sir — a  very 
Cato!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Ellingham,  when  he  learned 
of  this  tragic  epilogue.  "Ruffin  fired  the  first 
shot  of  the  war,  against  Sumter — and  now  he  has 
fired  the  last  shot,  too.  Yes,  sir,  he  was  a  Cato  of 
the  Old  Dominion." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

« 

"WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE" 

"O  Captain!  my  Captain!  our  fearful  trip  is  done, 

I  The  ship  has  weather'd  every  rack,  the  prize  we  sought  is  won. 

But  O  heart!  heart!  heart! 
O  the  bleeding  drops  of  red, 
Where  on  the  deck  my  Captain  lies, 
Fallen  cold  and  dead." 


SHERIDAN,  after  the  surrender 
of  Lee  at  Appomattox  Court  House,  re 
ceived  orders  to  march  into  North  Carolina  and 
aid  General  Sherman,  who  was  about  to  resume 
active  operations  against  the  still  recalcitrant 
Confederates  commanded  by  General  Johnston. 
On  his  way  thither  he  was  met  with  the  news  that 
Johnston  had  accepted  the  inevitable,  and  sur 
rendered  his  army  on  the  same  terms  which  had 
been  granted  to  General  Lee.  Thereupon  the 
cavalry  returned  to  Petersburg,  and  Sheridan 
himself  went  on  ahead  to  Washington,  to  await  the 
grand  review  of  the  Federal  armies  by  President 

Lincoln  before  their  disbandment. 

366 


11  With  Malice  Toward  None  "    367 

Alas!  it  was  written  in  the  inscrutable  Book  of 
Fate  that  the  War  President  should  never  witness 
that  re-entry  of  his  victorious  armies  into  Washing 
ton.  It  was  likewise  decreed  that  when  the  review 
should  take  place,  General  Sheridan  was  not  to  be 
in  it,  nor  would  he  ever  again  meet  as  an  organi 
zation  the  officers  and  men  who  had  followed  him 
and  fought  his  battles  so  gallantly  on  many  a  field. 
He  was  even  now  under  orders  to  go  south  and 
stamp  out  the  last  smouldering  embers  of  Rebel 
lion  in  Louisiana  and  Texas.  General  Grant  was 
anxious  that  he  should  assume  his  new  duties 
without  delay. 

Meanwhile,  everything  and  everybody  in  the 
National  Capital  had  imperceptibly  taken  on  the 
mood  and  aspect  of  rejoicing.  The  very  weather, 
the  stars,  and  the  flowers,  seemed  to  smile  and  glow 
and  bloom  in  sympathy.  In  that  advanced 
springtime,  there  were  even  lilacs  full-blown  by 
the  middle  of  April.  And  all  the  people  seemed 
to  breathe  in  the  air  "that  vast,  vague  wonder, 
Victory — the  nation's  victory,  the  triumph  of  the 
Union,  filling  the  day  and  the  night,  the  thoughts 
and  the  senses  of  men  and  women,  with  an  exhila 
ration  surpassing  that  of  music  and  perfumes." 

General  Grant  was  there,  unostentatiously  busy 
sending  off  orders  to  stop  recruiting,  and  the  pur- 


368  Shenandoah 

chase  of  supplies,  and  to  muster  out  the  army. 
General  Sheridan  was  there,  with  a  few  of  his 
cavalry  officers,  but  these  latter  did  not  include 
General  Haverill,  who  remained  with  the  army  on 
its  leisurely  march  towards  Washington. 

On  Good  Friday,  the  I4th  of  April,  the  after 
noon  papers  bore  the  reiterated  announcement : 

"The  President  and  his  Lady,  with  General 
Grant,  the  Hero  of  Appomattox,  will  be  at  the 
Theatre  this  evening." 

The  theatre  specified  was  the  historic  Ford's, 
on  Tenth  Street,  a  little  above  Pennsylvania 
Avenue,  where  Laura  Keene,  a  favorite  actress  of 
the  time,  was  to  give  a  benefit  performance  of  a 
ridiculous  comedy  written  by  the  English  play 
wright,  Tom  Taylor,  entitled  Our  American  Cousin. 

Surprise  was  expressed  in  some  quarters,  not  at 
the  President's  having  promised  to  go  and  see  the 
play,  but  on  account  of  his  attending  the  theatre 
on  Good  Friday.  Mr.  Lincoln's  predilection 
for  the  playhouse  was  well  known.  Many  of  his 
friends  thought  it  a  bizarre  circumstance  that  he, 
protagonist  of  one  of  the  most  stupendous  real- 
life  dramas  of  modern  times,  could  thus  lose  him 
self  in  following  with  child-like  interest  the  tricks 
and  antics  of  players  on  the  mimic  stage. 


"  With  Malice  Toward  None  "    369 

However,  on  this  particular  occasion  he  would 
willingly  have  remained  at  home. 

"It  has  been  advertised  in  the  newspapers  that 
we  will  be  at  the  theatre,"  he  said  to  friends  when 
the  matter  was  alluded  to  during  the  day,  "and 
I  can't  disappoint  the  people.  Otherwise  I  would 
not  go." 

General  Grant  did  not  feel  himself  bound  by 
any  such  obligation,  and  when  late  in  the  afternoon 
his  wife  asked  him  to  accompany  her  on  a  journey 
that  would  take  them  out  of  Washington  that 
evening,  he  readily  consented. 

The  performance  at  Ford's  Theatre  opened 
brilliantly  enough.  The  President  and  Mrs. 
Lincoln  came  early,  and  were  greeted  with  the 
acclaim  of  an  overflowing  audience,  while  the 
orchestra  played  the  national  anthem. 

It  was  in  the  second  act  of  the  play — following 
the  exit  of  Asa  Trenchard  after  the  absurd  scene 
in  which  he  informs  the  pair  of  English  ladies  that 
he  is  not  a  man  of  fortune,  and  therefore  is  un 
desirable  for  marriage-catching  purposes — that 
the  Muses  of  Tragedy  and  History  suddenly  rung 
down  the  curtain. 

From  the  flag-draped  stage  box  of  the  second 
tier,  in  which  President  Lincoln  and  his  party  sat, 
came  the  startling  sound  of  a  pistol-shot,  which 

24 


370  Shenandoah 

most  of  the  audience  thought  for  a  brief  instant 
to  be  incidental  to  the  play.  Then,  in  the  vague 
hush  that  followed,  a  piercing  scream  brought 
many  people  to  their  feet,  as  the  figure  of  a  man 
appeared  upon  the  railing  of  the  proscenium  box 
and  leaped  to  the  stage  below,  brandishing  in  one 
hand  a  large,  glittering  knife. 

"Sic  semper  tyrannis!"  he  cried,  with  clear 
dramatic  emphasis,  then  turned  and  made  a  rapid 
exit  diagonally  across  the  stage  to  the  back,  like 
a  swift,  demoniacal  spirit  of  evil. 

"Murder!  He  has  killed  the  President!"  came 
the  heart-rending  cry  of  Mrs.  Lincoln,  as  with 
ghastly  face  she  leaned  out  of  the  box  and  pointed 
to  the  retreating  assassin. 

Another  second's  pause,  and  then  pandemonium 
broke  loose.  Men  burst  through  railings,  climbed 
over  chairs,  swarmed  upon  the  stage  and  mingled 
with  the  terrified  rouge-faced  actors — women 
fainted,  children  screamed  in  terror,  police  and 
soldiers  tore  their  way  through  the  seething,  roar 
ing  crowd — and  amidst  all  could  be  heard  the 
clatter  of  a  horse's  hoofs  as  the  mysterious  assail 
ant  of  the  President  made  his  escape  down  the 
stone-paved  alley  back  of  the  theatre. 

President  Lincoln  had  been  shot  in  the  back  of 
the  head,  at  close  range.  He  fell  from  his  chair, 


"With  Malice  Toward  None"    371 

his  life-blood  oozing  from  the  wound,  and  never 
recovered  consciousness.  An  army  surgeon  or 
two  hastily  attended  him  as  best  they  could  in  the 
frightful  panic  and  confusion.  As  soon  as  the 
theatre  could  be  cleared,  and  way  made  through 
the  vast  crowd  that  gathered  in  the  street  out 
side,  the  stricken  President  was  carried  to  a  private 
house  opposite  and  laid  on  a  bed  in  a  small  back 
room  that  happened  to  be  unoccupied.  Here, 
shortly  after  seven  o'clock  the  next  morning,  he 
breathed  his  last. 

So,  in  one  sudden,  blinding  flash,  in  one  simple, 
savage  deed,  culminated  the  long,  involved,  trag 
ical  epic  of  the  four  years'  war  for  the  preserva 
tion  of  the  Union.  So  dramatically  died  the  great 
War  President,  the  Emancipator  of  four  million 
slaves,  he  who  "with  malice  toward  none,  with 
charity  for  all,"  had  through  darkest  hours  held 
aloft  the  sword  of  fire,  in  the  God-inspired  resolve 
that  this  nation  should  "have  a  new  birth  of  free 
dom, — and  that  government  of  the  people,  by  the 
people,  and  for  the  people,  should  not  perish  from 
the  earth." 

The  assassin,  John  Wilkes  Booth,  a  fanatical 
actor  from  Baltimore,  managed  with  the  aid  of 
accomplices  to  escape  across  the  Potomac  and  into 
the  wilds  of  Virginia,  where  twelve  days  later  he 


372  Shenandoah 

was  overtaken  by  one  of  the  squadrons  of  cavalry 
sent  out  to  scour  the  country  in  his  pursuit,  and 
was  shot  down,  like  a  maddened  wolf  in  a  trap, 
amidst  the  burning  ruins  of  a  barn  in  which  he  had 
taken  refuge. 

When  General  Grant  and  General  Sheridan  met 
in  Washington  after  the  first  stupefying  sensation 
aroused  by  the  President's  murder  had  begun  to 
subside,  the  commander  of  the  Army  of  the  Shen 
andoah  asked  the  Lieutenant-General  if  he  could 
describe  the  personal  appearance  of  Booth.  This 
General  Grant  was  able  to  do  accurately,  because 
on  the  fatal  day  of  the  I4th  he  had  been  followed 
on  Pennsylvania  Avenue  by  a  mysterious  horse 
man,  afterwards  ascertained  to  have  been  Booth, 
who  undoubtedly  had  planned  to  kill  the  General 
as  well  as  President  Lincoln,  had  the  former  at 
tended  the  theatre  as  expected. 

Sheridan  also  studied  the  widely  circulated 
picture  of  Booth,  and  finally  declared : 

"That  is  undoubtedly  the  same  man  who  came 
to  me  in  the  Valley  campaign  last  fall,  under  the 
name  of  Renfrew,  engaged  in  the  Secret  Service, 
and  was  afterward  caught  communicating  with 
the  enemy." 

It  now  transpired  that  the  information  which 
led  to  the  running  down  of  Booth  after  his  assas- 


o 

»g 
.2 

^3 

o 


13 


"  With  Malice  Toward  None  "    373 

sination  of  the  President  was  extorted  from  a 
Mosby  guerilla  whom  Colonel  Conger,  of  the  pur 
suing  cavalry,  had  run  across  on  the  way  into 
Virginia. 

This  circumstance  was  a  further  link  in  the 
connection  between  Booth  or  "Renfrew,"  and 
the  Confederate  Secret  Service  Corps  with  whom 
the  last-named  had  been  caught  communicating, 
through  the  sinister  mediumship  of  that  arch-spy 
and  desperado,  Edward  Thornton. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LOVE  RULES 

"Fold  up  the  banners!  smelt  the  guns! 
Love  rules;  her  gentler  purpose  runs. 
A  mighty  mother  turns  in  tears 
The  pages  of  her  battle  years, 
Lamenting  all  her  fallen  sons." 

THE,  double  wedding  was  to  take  place  at  St. 
John's,  Washington.  In  that  venerable  and 
picturesque  old  church,  across  the  park  from  the 
White  House,  the  gallant  and  impetuous  Captain 
Heartsease,  after  an  intermittent  courtship  that 
had  lasted  considerably  longer  than  the  late  Civil 
War,  was  finally  to  claim  Jenny  Buckthorn  as  his 
unblushing  bride.  And  as  an  added  feature  of 
the  occasion,  Colonel  Robert  Ellingham,  late  of 
the  Confederate  army, — arriving  through  a  verit 
able  Odyssey  of  experiences  after  Appomattox, — 
was  to  be  united  inseparably  with  gentle  but 
unfaltering  Madeline  West. 

Such  an  event,  of  course,  would  be  incomplete 
without  Madeline's  brother  Kerchival  and  Colonel 

374 


Love  Rules  375 

Ellingham's  sister  Gertrude:  that  happy  pair  of 
"newly-weds"  were  even  now  hastening  on  from 
Richmond  for  the  grand  matrimonial  celebration 
of  the  war's  ending.  Dr.  EUingham  had  promised 
to  come  with  them.  The  headquarters  of  the  joy 
ous  and  eventful  reunion  was  to  be  the  hospitable 
home  of  General  Buckthorn. 

So  far,  so  good.  But  what  about  those  other 
two  persons,  without  whom  anything  like  a  re 
assembling  of  the  Charleston  party  of  four  years 
ago  would  be  inconceivable?  Where  were  General 
Haverill  and  his  wife? 

The  General's  return  to  Washington  was  set 
for  the  very  day  of  the  wedding  of  his  former 
ward,  Robert  EUingham.  That  the  call  of  his 
own  home  had  not  brought  him  back  long  before 
seemed  unaccountable  to  all — most  of  all  to  his 
own  wife,  Mrs.  Constance  Haverill. 

Mrs.  Haverill  and  her  daughter  Edith,  as  she 
now  called  poor  Frank's  widow,  sat  together  in 
the  cosey  morning-room  of  the  Haverill  residence, 
the  day  before  the— before  THE  day.  Edith's 
little  son,  a  sturdy  four-year-old,  was  playing 
soldier  with  some  other  children  in  the  dooryard 
outside,  and  the  sounds  of  childish  merriment  had 
cheered  the  habitually  pensive  mood  of  the  two 
women. 


376  Shenandoah 

"It  seems  hardly  possible  that  the  war  is  over," 
said  Edith,  standing  at  the  window.  "With  the 
troops  returning,  and  the  flags  flying,  and  the 
bands  playing,  every  day  is  like  a  holiday.  And 
so  it  is,  I  suppose,  for  those  fortunate  women 
whose  husbands  are  coming  back  to  them." 

"Yes,  Edith,  dear,"  sighed  Mrs.  Haverill,  "to 
those  women  whose  husbands  are  coming  back  to 
them. — Ah,  forgive  me,  pet!  I  was  selfishly 
thinking  of  myself, — but  you  know  that  in  my 
heart  I  also  share  your  grief." 

"Yes,  I  do  know  that,  Constance.  You  have 
been  both  mother  and  sister  to  me,  and — and  I 
would  share  your  trouble,  too, — if  you  would  let 
me.  I  have  so  often  found  you  in  tears,  and  have 
not  asked  why,  and  yet  I  think  I  know.  It  is 
months  since  you  have  shown  me  any  letter  from 
General  Haverill — from  Frank's  father.  And,  did 
you  not  expect  the  General  home  before  now?" 

"That  is  what  I  meant,  when  I  spoke." 

"I  wonder  if  it  is  because  I  am  here?  He  has 
never  seen  me,  and  sometimes  I  fear  he  has  never 
forgiven  our  marriage — Frank's  and  mine." 

"Nonsense,  Edith  child!"  Mrs.  Haverill  re 
joined,  quickly.  "If  only  that  were  all!  He 
will  at  least  be  eager  to  see  you  now,  and  little 
Frankie." 


Love  Rules  377 

"And  yet,  in  his  official  report  to  the  Govern 
ment,  when  he  told  the  whole  world  how  bravely 
Frankie's  father  died,  General  Haverill  only  wrote 
the  name  of  Lieutenant  Bedloe.  It  looks  as 
though  nothing,  in  his  mind,  could  atone  for  the 
disgrace  his  son  brought  upon  his  name." 

Mrs.  Haverill  rose  from  her  chair  and  turned 
away,  brushing  her  handkerchief  across  her  eyes, 
as  she  said,  more  to  herself  than  to  Edith : 

"I  know  him  so  well — the  pride  that  conquers 
all  the  tenderness  in  his  nature.  He  can  be  silent 
and  cold,  when  his  heart  is  breaking — yes,  and 
when  my  heart  is  breaking,  too!" 

A  message  came,  a  little  later,  from  General 
Buckthorn,  saying  that  Captain  Heartsease  had 
something  of  importance  for  Edith  and  Mrs. 
Haverill,  and  inviting  them  to  come  over  to  his 
house  as  soon  as  possible  to  receive  it. 

With  anxious  steps  the  two  hastened  thither, 
so  promptly  that  at  the  moment  of  their  arrival 
the  old  General  himself  was  not  on  hand  to  receive 
them.  But  Miss  Jenny  and  her  Captain  were, 
and  that  more  than  sufficed. 

"My  dear  madam,"  said  Captain  Heartsease, 
addressing  himself  to  Edith,  "I  sincerely  crave 
your  pardon  and  indulgence.  The  fact  is,  these 
last  few  days  I  have  been  in  such  a  fever " 


378  Shenandoah 

"Chills  and  fever — mostly  chills,"  interrupted 
Jenny. 

" — of  excitement  and  emotion,  don't  you  know, 
that  a  very  important,  I  may  say  a  very  sad, 
commission  was  for  the  time  crowded  out  of  my 
memory.  I  have  for  you  here  the  note-book  of 
Lieutenant  Frank  Bedloe — otherwise  Haverill — in 
which  Miss  Gertrude  Ellingham  wrote  down  his 
dying  message  to  his  young  wife — to  you,  madam." 

Edith  seized  the  precious  relic,  clasped  it  to 
her  heart,  kissed  it,  and  then  tried  through  eyes 
brimming  with  tears,  to  scan  its  blurred  pages, 
while  chokingly  uttering  her  thanks  to  Captain 
Heartsease. 

"How  did  it  come  into  your  possession?"  Mrs. 
Haverill  asked  him. 

"Why,  you  see,  Miss  Ellingham — now,  I  should 
say,  Mrs.  Colonel  Kerchival  West — sent  it  to  me 
from  Richmond  as  soon  as  she  learned  I  was  here, 
because  it  was  uncertain  at  what  time  the  Colonel 
would  be  released  on  his  parole,  and " 

"Here  they  are!"  called  the  deep,  hoarse  voice 
of  General  Buckthorn,  as  he  blustered  in,  attended 
by  the  faithful  Sergeant  Barket.  "Ladies,  wel 
come  to  our  camp !  Jenny,  have  n't  you  relieved 
the  Captain  yet?  Order  him  to  the  billiard  room, 
can't  you?" 


Love  Rules  379 

"  'Bout  face!  March!"  commanded  Miss 
Buckthorn,  in  her  strictest  military  style. 

Heartsease  marched.  Jenny  slipped  an  arm 
around  Edith's  waist,  and  walked  with  her  towards 
a  window  alcove.  Mrs.  Haverill  would  have 
followed,  but  General  Buckthorn  approached  her, 
gravely  and  gently,  to  whisper : 

"Will  you  come  with  me,  Mrs.  Haverill?  I 
must  have  you  by  yourself,  to  prepare  you  for 
something  that  is  going  to  startle  you,  but  will 
do  you  good.  Your  husband  is  here,  and  you  are 
going  to  meet  him  alone  in  the  library." 

Mrs.  Haverill  gasped,  clutched  his  arm,  and 
looked  with  yearning  inquiry  into  his  face. 

"I  don't  know  what  is  up  between  you  and  the 
General,"  he  said,  as  they  moved  slowly  down 
the  corridor  towards  the  library  door,  "but  you  'd 
better  fight  it  out  on  this  line,  and  make  terms  of 
surrender.  The  war  is  over  now." 

The  old  soldier  knocked,  opened  the  door, 
bowed  Mrs.  Haverill  in,  and  then  retreated. 

"Constance!"  exclaimed  General  Haverill, 
standing  stern  and  impassive. 

11  My  husband — may  I  still  call  you  so,  after  this 
long  separation,  without  one  word? " 

"  I  can  only  speak  the  word  '  wife '  in  one  way,  and 
that  is  with  the  old-time  affection  and  confidence." 


380  Shenandoah 

"And  what  have  I  done  to  forfeit  those?" 

"I  will  answer  you,  if  you  will  answer  me. 
Where  is  the  miniature  portrait  which  I  gave  you, 
in  Charleston,  for  my  son?" 

"Why — your  son  is  dead,  John,  and  my  portrait 
must  be  in  the  grave  with  him.  Don't  you  know ?" 

For  answer,  General  Haverill  took  the  worn  case 
from  his  pocket,  opened  it,  and  held  it  forth  in  his 
extended  hand.  She  looked  at  it,  then  at  him, 
in  wondering  interrogation. 

"It  might  have  lain  in  the  grave  with  Kerchival 
West,"  he  said. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  You  must  tell 
me." 

"I  mean  that  I  have  it,  not  from  my  son,  but 
from — the  other.  You  are  silent?  Well,  you 
know  now  why  I,  also,  have  been  silent  so  long." 

The  unhappy  wife's  agitation  was  pitiable,  as 
she  stood  there  mute,  with  brimming  eyes,  flushed 
cheeks,  and  heaving  bosom.  At  last,  with  brave 
self -conquest,  she  said  proudly  : 

"My  chief  witness  to  the  truth  is  dead.  The 
other,  you  have  had  sufficient  opportunity  to 
examine,  I  should  suppose.  As  Colonel  West  is 
not  here,  I  shall  remain  silent — even  though  that 
silence  parts  us,  you  and  me,  forever." 

"And  yet,"  he  went  on,  pleadingly  now,  "as 


Love  Rules  381 

I  look  into  your  eyes  I  '11  swear  I  can  see  only 
truth  and  loyalty  there." 

"No,  John,"  she  answered,  gently,  turning 
away  from  him,  "I  will  not  accept  your  blind  or 
unwilling  faith." 

"Oh — aw — I  beg  a  thousand  pardons — thought 

Miss  Buckthorn  was  here "     The  door  opened 

a  second  to  admit  this  flying  apology,  then  shut 
as  suddenly,  as  Captain  Heartsease,  staring  aghast 
through  his  monocle,  retired  in  confusion. 

"Colonel  West  will  be  here  with  Gertrude,  for 
the  wedding,  to-morrow,"  General  Haverill  con 
tinued,  when  he  and  his  wife  were  left  alone  again. 
"Shall  you  and  I  meet  them  as  we  are  parting 
now?" 

Before  she  could  reply,  the  door  opened  again, 
and  this  time  Jenny  Buckthorn  peered  in. 

"Oh,  dear!  I  was  looking  for  Captain  Hearts 
ease.  Please  excuse Why,  General  Haverill ! 

Papa  said  you  had  come  back,  and  I  would  n't 
believe  him.  And — you  haven't  seen  Edith, 
yet?" 

"Not  yet,  but  I  am  anxious  to  do  so,  as  soon  as 
possible,"  he  replied.  Then  he  murmured,  to 
himself,  "My  son's  wife!" 

Jenny  led  the  way  back  to  the  drawing-room, 
the  General  and  Mrs.  Haverill  following. 


382  Shenandoah 

Edith  came  forward  to  meet  them,  eagerly,  yet 
timorously.  General  Haverill  took  her  hand, 
and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  saying : 

"You  shall  take  the  place  my  son  once  filled 
in  my  heart." 

"You  will  see  his  own  face  again,  sir,  in  our 
little  son's,"  she  replied.  "I  am  happy  that 
Frank  won  your  forgiveness  at  the  last, — and  that 
the  boy  will  soon  be  old  enough  to  understand 
your  words  telling  how  his  father  died  a  hero." 

"My  words?"  repeated  the  General,  vaguely. 

"Yes,  sir — in  the  despatch  to  the  Government 
from  Cedar  Creek.  You  gave  the  name  of  Lieu 
tenant  Bedloe,  but " 

"Ah,  yes.  He  died  before  I  reached  him,  but 
my  prayers  went  up  for  him  then,  as  they  do  now." 

"Here  is  his  note-book — with  his  last  message 
to  me,"  continued  Edith,  biting  her  lips,  to  keep 
from  crying.  "He  says:  ' Tell  our  little  son  how 
his  father  died,  not  how  he  lived.  And  tell  her 
who  filled  my  own  mother's  place  so  lovingly ' 

Here  she  broke  down.  Mrs.  Haverill  had 
turned  away,  sobbing. 

"Go  on,  my  child,"  urged  General  Haverill. 

"  'My  father's  portrait  of  her,  which  she  gave 
to  me  in  Charleston,  helped  me  to  be  a  better  man. 
It  was  taken  away  from  me  while  I  was  a  prisoner 


Love  Rules  383 

in  Richmond,  by  Captain  Edward  Thornton — 
Confederate  Secret  Service " 

"One  moment,  please!"  cried  General  Haverill, 
reaching  for  the  note-book.  "Let  me  think. 
Thornton  was  taken  a  prisoner — and  searched — 
by  Kerchival  West — and  then  he  broke  away, 
and  wounded  Colonel  West,  and  he  had  in  his 
pocket —  Oh,  Constance,  my  wife !  In  the  presence 
of  all,  let  me  humbly  beg  your  forgiveness  for  my 
unreasonableness  and  misunderstanding,  these 
long  months  past." 

"Can  it  be  that  you  did  not  receive  Constance's 
— mother's — letter,  after  Frank's  death?"  ven 
tured  Edith,  trying  to  bridge  over  the  awkward 
silence  that  ensued. 

General  Haverill  only  shook  his  head,  bowed 
in  penitence.  Mrs.  Haverill  went  up  and  kissed 
him,  and  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms. 

"Well,  that 's  settled,"  growled  a  voice  as  from 
the  battlefield.  "Now  let's  have  a — ahem!  I 
mean  some  refreshments —  Barket,  tell  old  Mar 
gery  to  serve  the  tea  and  things  in  here,  and  bring 
up  Heartsease,  and  then  we  '11  swap  stories  about 
how  some  parts  of  the  war  might  have  been  fought 
out,  but  were  n't." 

After  old  General  Buckthorn's  reinforcements 
had  been  duly  ordered  up,  and  saved  the  day, 


384  Shenandoah 

the  interest  centred  in  Captain  Heartsease's  thril 
ling  but  fragmentary  and  always  to-be-continued 
narration  of  his  adventures  after  being  wounded 
and  captured  in  the  raid  on  the  signal  station, 
before  the  battle  of  Cedar  Creek.  Jenny  Buck 
thorn  had  to  draw  him  out. 

"Didn't  you  long  to  see  your  friends,  and  so 
forth,  at  home,  when  you  were  in  that  Rebel 
prison?"  she  asked. 

"Aw — naturally.  However,  there  were  quite 
a  jolly  lot  of  chaps  there,  and  we  had  our  own  fun. 
We  got  up  a  regular  orchestra,  and  gave  concerts, 
don't  you  know.  I  had  a  banjo  with  one  string, 
and  I  played  one  tune  on  it — '  Turkey  in  de  Straw, ' 
if  I  remember  rightly.  It  went  like  this." 

Here  the  Captain  stopped  to  drum  it  out  on  the 
piano,  with  one  ringer. 

"Oh,  bother  that!"  Jenny  exclaimed.  "Tell 
them  about  the  awful  dangers  you  went  through, 
when  you  escaped  from  prison.  I'll  bet  you  were 
badly  scared,  more  than  once." 

"No — only  once,  and  that  was  all  the  time. 
One  night  I  came  face  to  face,  on  the  road,  with  a 
Confederate  officer.  It  was  Captain  Thornton." 

"  Oh !  What  did  you  do  ?  "  everybody  exclaimed 
breathlessly. 

"I    killed   him,"    answered    Heartsease,    with 


Love  Rules  385 

sudden  intensity,  looking  up  from  the  piano  an 
instant,  then  dropping  back  mechanically  to  his 
one-fingered  "Turkey  in  de  Straw." 

That  was  all  he  ever  said  on  the  subject,  and  it 
was  not  until  long  afterward,  through  other 
sources,  that  the  detailed  story  came  out  of  how 
the  Yankee  trooper,  running  away  unarmed  in 
company  with  a  negro  slave  who  had  volunteered 
to  show  him  the  way,  had  encountered  the  vin 
dictive  Thornton,  and  after  a  desperate  hand-to- 
hand  combat,  had  slain  him  with  his  own  weapons. 

"And  't  was  afther  Colonel  Wist  he  was 
a-lookin',  too,  I  '11  go  bail,"  put  in  Barket,  who 
was  waiting  upon  General  Buckthorn  at  the  mo 
ment.  "That  Thornton  was  a  pizen  divil  for 
gettin'  even  wid  an  ould  grudge,  and  I  '11  give 
him  the  credit  to  say  that  he  was  a  powerful 
awkward  mon  to  handle  in  a  fight." 

"Mention  of  the  military  prisons  reminds  me," 
said  General  Haverill,  "that  I  have  a  letter  written 
me  shortly  after  Cedar  Creek,  by  a  Captain  Coxr 
of  a  Kentucky  regiment.  Captain  Cox  was  in 
Libby  with — with  Lieutenant  Bedloe.  He  him 
self  escaped  from  there,  some  time  later,  with  the 
considerable  number  of  Union  officers  who  crawled 
out  through  Captain  Rose's  tunnel,  from  the 
cellar.  He  mentions  another  comrade — a  Cap- 
as 


386  Shenandoah 

tain  Hunt,  as  I  remember — who  was  finally  ex 
changed  when  dying  of  consumption,  and  lived 
just  long  enough  to  reach  home." 

The  conversation  now  turned  to  Colonel  Ker- 
chival  West,  and  the  last  engagement  in  which  he 
had  participated,  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  As 
Sergeant  Barket  admittedly  knew  more  about 
this  than  any  other  man  alive,  including  Colonel 
West  himself,  the  company  now  unanimously  de 
cided  to  give  him  the  floor.  Barket  was  in  his 
element,  especially  when  he  observed  that  old 
Margery,  the  cook,  had  lingered  in  the  background 
amongst  his  attentive  audience.  He  had  half-a- 
dozen  teacups  and  a  sherry  glass  or  two  arranged 
on  the  hearth-rug  to  represent  the  Union  and  Con 
federate  lines,  while  he  illustrated  the  cavalry 
charges  and  artillery  fire  with  flourishes  of  General 
Buckthorn's  walking-stick. 

"Just  in  the  hottest  part  of  this  battle  of  Sayder 
Creek,  whin  Colonel  Wist  and  I  rode  to  the  front 
to  rally  the  rigiment  and  turn  upon  the  victorious 
inimy — it  was  at  this  p'int,  foreninst  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  d*  ye  moind — sure,  the  Colonel  he  sailed  out 
ahead  widout  any  coat  or  hat,  and  wid  only  a  shtick 
in  his  hand,  and  yells  out,  'Charge,  b'yes!  Gineral 
Sheridan  's  come  back ! '  They  give  wan  big  cheer, 
and  we  swept  clane  over  the  Rebel  battery!" 


-- 

I   ^ 


*i 

"M  to 
O 

-? 


Love  Rules  387 

"Hoo-roo!"  cried  Margery,  as  Barket's  stick 
smashed  a  line  of  teacup  artillery. 

"The  attack  on  our  lift  flank  was  checked. 
But  whin  we  shtopped  to  take  breath,  where  was 
brave  Colonel  Wist  ?  Heaven  only  knows.  Af  ther 
the  foight  was  over,  Miss  Gertrude  and  the  other 
gals  searches  for  him  on  the  field,  and  then,  of  a 
suddint,  Miss  Gertrude  rides  off  all  by  herself, 
and  disappears  behind  the  schoolhouse " 

"No,  Barket — it  was  the  church,  and  the  Colonel 
and  I  were  married  there!" 

Gertrude  herself,  on  the  arm  of  Kerchival  West 
in  a  brand-new  uniform,  suddenly  appeared  upon 
the  scene,  having  been  ushered  in  by  the  maid  at 
the  front  door  unobserved,  while  the  battle  of 
Cedar  Creek  was  raging.  Nor  did  they  come 
alone.  Close  in  their  rear  followed  a  quiet  civilian, 
who  on  second  glance  proved  to  be  Bob  Ellingham 
— and  where  Bob  was,  Madeline  West  could  not 
be  far  away. 

"Welcome,  Colonel  Ellingham!"  roared  General 
Buckthorn,  "  We  had  a  long  fight  to  keep  you 
out  of  Washington,  but  we  're  delighted  to  see  you 
within  the  lines  now." 

The  reunion  was  complete.  Mason  and  Dixon's 
line  no  longer  divided  old  friendships.  Plans  of 
campaign  looked  no  farther  ahead  than  to-mor- 


388  Shenandoah 

row's  nuptials.  Kerchival  did,  however,  suggest 
to  Bob  that  he  might  do  worse  than  follow  the 
example  of  himself  and  Gertrude,  who  intended  to 
settle  down  in  Washington  and  begin  life  anew, 
under  the  old  flag  of  the  Union. 

"I  see  that  flag  has  just  been  raised  again  over 
Fort  Sumter,  on  the  fourth  anniversary  of  the  day 
in  Charleston  which  we  all  remember  so  well," 
said  General  Haverill,  in  a  tone  of  devout  thank 
fulness  that  had  no  ring  of  triumph. 

"I  think,"  replied  Bob,  ''that  Virginia  will  be 
about  right  for  us — Madeline  and  myself.  The 
Old  Dominion  is  dilapidated,  fenceless,  and  war- 
trodden.  But  her  soil  is  elastic,  and  her  air  has 
something  inspiring  in  it,  still.  Madeline  says  she 
loves  Belle  Bosquet.  She  would  hardly  recognize 
the  old  place  now — but  I  hope  her  presence  there 
will  bring  it  back  to  life  again." 

"The  schoolhouse  and  the  church,  which  some 
body  was  speaking  of  a  minute  ago,"  said  General 
Buckthorn,  in  what  sounded  like  an  aggrieved  tone, 
"must  be  our  National  headquarters,  from  now 
on." 

"Not  forgetting  the  hospitals,"  added  General 
Haverill,  with  a  fond  glance  at  his  wife  and  Edith. 
"They  are  still  in  full  commission.  It  is  for  us, 
as  immortal  Lincoln  said,  to  'strive  on  to  finish 


Love  Rules  389 

the  work  we  are  in ;  to  bind  up  the  nation's  wounds ; 
to  care  for  him  who  shall  have  borne  the  battle, 
and  for  his  widow  and  for  his  orphan;  to  do  all 
which  may  achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and  lasting 
peace  among  ourselves,  and  with  all  nations. ' 

THE  END 


"  Jl  born  teller  of  stories.    She  certainly  has  the 
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